The Tale of a Boy and His Dark Passenger
by Stina Whatever
Summary: Usually it's Barbas who comes back from the dead. This time, it's someone worse. A child everyone thought was dead.
1. Prologue and Panties

**AN: This is the rewrite of I'm Not Gone and Family Reunion. Every chapter is in the main character's POV unless stated otherwise.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

Prologue and Panties

"Ehh, what's going on out there?" Piper asked, having been summoned by her sisters, Phoebe and Paige, a while ago. All ske knew about the situation was that they were in a cage they couldn't get out of and unable to use their powers in, since they would rebound.

"The Seer's being coronated as the new Source," Phoebe explained.

"Huh," Piper said.

"Yeah, then she's gonna sacrifice us," Paige added.

"Oshi det una domos," the Dark Priest said, reading from a grimoire.

"Oshi det una domos," the Seer and future Source repeated. They were standing in the middle of the room with black-robed demons around them. The Charmed Ones were in a cage.

"Let's get this straight, you guys summoned me to a cage where my powers don't work, so we can all die together?!"

"Well, the plan has some flaws admittedly," Paige admitted.

"Omne quas merere patie peana," the Priest said.

"We just have to stay positive," Phoebe said. "We have the Power of Three here, there is nothing stronger than that, right?"

"Omne quas merere pati peana," the Seer repeated, and then she rose into the air, blue light coming from her. It looked like she had several flashlights underneath her robe.

"Are you sure there's nothing stronger than the Power of Three?" Piper asked, scared at the display of magic.

The Seer and now Source then floats down to the ground, and turns towards the Charmed Ones in their cage.

"What an unexpected surprise. You just made my-" The Source groans and clutches her head as flames erupt.

"It's the baby. He has too much power for her. That's how I felt, it felt like I was gonna explode," Phoebe explained to her sisters.

"What are we gonna do?" Paige asked.

"We need to make her tap into the baby's power, all of it," Phoebe replied.

"How the hell are we gonna do that?" Paige asked.

The flames had now disappeared, and the Source tried to save face by appearing strong, though it was obvious she hadn't caused the flames herself and that they had hurt her.

"I command all in attendance to witness the power of the Source..." she stated.

"Power of Three spell?" Piper asked, who was of the opinion that since they were going to die they could at least try a spell.

"...and the death pf the Charmed Ones!"

"Uh, okay," Phoebe said, of the same opinion as Piper.

"The Power of Three will set us free, the Power of Three will set us free," they chanted.

The Source threw out her right arm in the direction of the cage, a streak of concentrated magic aimed towards the cage. It hit the cage, but was also stopped by the cage.

"What's wrong?" the priest asked.

"Nothing's wrong," the Source replied, throwing out the other arm too. The magic then rebounds into the Source and explodes outwards, while the Charmed Ones continue chanting. In about half a minute every demon in the cave has been vanquished.

"Where did everybody go?" Piper asked, looking around the cave. The sister did not expect that to happen. Piper then kicks the cage door and it falls to the ground with a clatter. The sisters walk out of the cave.

"The blast took everyone out. The Seer, the Council leaders," Phoebe said.

"Well, I'd say the scales of good and evil just dramatically tipped in our favor," Piper remarked.

"Oh, look, the Grimoire. Still untouched," Paige said.

"It's time we get rid of that book once and for all," Phoebe replied.

At the same time, in another part of the Underworld, a Seer with a love for poetry was trying to think of a good way to start a love poem.

She had quickly discarded 'I love you', 'I go weak in the knees' and 'My panties are never dry'.

But suddenly, she knew exactly what to write.

_He shall rise_

_One night_

_The darkest of nights_

_A night without moon_

_It was a night of many things_

_Witches fighting for their lives_

_The burn of fire_

_And He had risen _

_He gave himself_

_The greatest mission of all_

_To remake, to destroy_

_That which was old_

_It would be a new era_

_An era when Evil was strong_

_The Good side weak_


	2. The Sarcastic Servant

******AN: It's finally here! The rewrite of I'm Not Gone and Family Reunion.**

******I'm going to update once a week, on either Sunday or Monday, and I really hope you'll enjoy this story, 'cause it's gonna be great.**

******Enjoy!**

The Sarcastic Servant

"Here's the proposal, here's the book you requested, and here's the summary of today. Have a good night, my Source."

He took the two folders and book from Mikhail, ignored the suggestions and sarcasm and walked into His office. He sat down in his chair (it was very comfortable) and started reading. It didn't take long before He started smiling. His own people and their pettiness was as amusing as ever. He wished He could take part, but He had to stay in the U.S. The Halliwells lived there, and they were a priority. One day, they'd be dead by His hand.

When He had finished with the folders, and written down His remarks, He began outlining His plans for how to use the civil war mentioned in the summary, page two, paragraph three. There was a lot of opportunities, but He had to think of His resources. They weren't unlimited, and wouldn't be until He could solidify his power.

It took one hour for Him to do that, since He faded in and out of focus. It was annoying, really annoying, because everything took so ___long _with the boy bringing Him down. He needed the boy, He'd always needed someone, but this one was even worse than Cole. He had at least gotten Cole's body, but all He got from the boy was his power. Not that it wasn't a lot of power, but He would really have liked a body which He could control, a body that didn't disappear at inconvenient times.

At three am, after having arrived there four hours ago and having done three hours of work, He started reading the 'book', as Mikhail had said. It was more of an old grimoire/diary, really. Something he had written while he was still young. It was a long time ago, now.

___The political climate in the Underworld is hard to understand. The important thing to know is that everyone will stab you in the back, even though you've done everything for them. This is because everyone wants up to the surface. This has its' roots in the history of the Underworld._

___The Elders created the Underworld three centuries ago, so that they'd have a place to which they could send misbehaving witches, whitelighters, goddesses and gods. Undesirables. The first who were sent here has now shaped up and they are the founders of the two cities. The newer arrivals are the ones causing all the trouble for us. They're the ones who are trying to get up to the surface, those who have mutilated themselves to get more power, those who are mere shadows of their former selves. To avoid a war with the good beings, they are the ones who need to be eliminated. Of course, a war with them is the only chance we have to get up to the surface, and then to be able to kick the Elders where it hurts._

He smiled, the sad and slow kind of smile you get when you read something you wrote a long time ago. Usually it's full of faults, but this time it wasn't. It was true. A long time ago.

He turned a few more pages, reading where something caught his attention.

___More and more are coming here. I just wish, I wish that the Elders would stop sending them. Our food is running out. We are becoming more powerful, more of a threat, the Elders must know that, but they're probably counting on famine to take us out first. THAT WILL NOT HAPPEN._

___The ones from the desert can survive of others magical energy for months._

___Correction: their souls convert the energy from another being into food. Sustenance is gained. They are the only ones to be able to do this thanks to the rituals that they have done._

* * *

___I met a girl._

___Now, girls are..._

* * *

___I'm going to get married tomorrow. This is how it's going to be:_

___AMAZING._

___We're getting married because we love each other, and not for personal, or parental, gain. She's wonderful, I think, and that is also what she thinks of me._

___A marriage is not inherently evil nor inherently good. It can't be, because of all the different reasons you get married. A marriage between two good beings is not automatically good, and a marriage between two evil beings is not automatically evil._

Since this was a new version of his book, there were no tear stains on the page. It's funny, how things change. Marriages can be both evil and good now, depending on the priest instead of the ones getting married.

And now, there is a tear stain on the page. It's there, but unlike the last, one, which He remembers with a clarity that only comes with painful memories, this one doesn't smudge the ink, it just settles on the paper.

At five am, He disappears from his office, the book falling to the floor like it had done five times previously.

When He returns, after twenty minutes, the tenseness that had been in His shoulder, the readiness to drop everything at a moment's notice, is gone. He's relaxed, because He finally got the boy to take a sleeping pill.

The sleeping pills were something He saved for special occasions, for times when He really had something He had to do and couldn't afford to disappear.

Like now.

* * *

Now, the scene is different. It's not an office filled with untouched books and with candles everywhere, it's a room with stone walls, portraits, and a long table with china. He appears, and immediately hides in the shadows. That the table already is set, that there is food on the table, means He won't have to wait for so long.

It also meant He won't have as much time to set the wards, hindering them from shimmering out.

It takes him two minutes to do, and then He just has time to settle comfortably in the shadows before the family appears.

There's Saul, who has worked for Him a long time, but now He is either hostile or unaware of his presence. The last option is unlikely. His wife, Eve, sat down across from Saul, and the daughter that He had only heard about sat down next to her mother.

"I still think we should do something about the new Source," said Eve, in the tone of someone who had been trying far too long to get something through another person's too thick skull.

"Except there is no Source, there's just a darklighter with money. Could you pass me the ham?" he asked his wife, who glared at him, "please?"

"Here," she said, handing him the ham. This was hilarious.

Two centuries ago they had been living in caves like the major part of the demon population, and now they were eating thinly sliced ham and saying please in a room with whitewashed walls.

"Anyway, since you don't believe me when I say that the Source is the real deal, I went to a Seer yesterday-"

"Because they'd know something? Don't be stupid, he should hate Seers," Saul said, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

"-for a vision, you complete idiot. After last time, of course he wouldn't trust anyone."

"Or he would, just to confuse us."

"Didn't you say he wasn't the real him?" Eve said, sipping her tea. Tea, not alcohol.

"That doesn't mean he can't be someone who knew the real Source, and is now using that information to stay one step ahead of everyone else."

"Don't you mean us, dad?" the daughter asked, and attempted to pour milk over her cereal, but Eve thought that was a bad idea and did it for her.

"Fine, staying one step ahead of us," Saul said, preparing another ham sandwich.

"Should we do something about him then?" Eve asked.

"Okay, so there is a new Source. If he's the real one isn't something we need to discuss, since he doesn't seem to be liking us that much."

"Doesn't that mean he's not the Source?" the daughter asked, interrupting Saul.

"When the Source is killed, he becomes the one who killed him. His opinions change often," Saul said. Saul knew more than he had thought. But, it wasn't weird that Saul knew so much. Saul had been close to him for centuries, through five bodies. Of course Saul had realized him changing with each new body.

"Why haven't you said anything?" Eve demanded. This was a lot more drama than He had thought it would be. He'd really decided on the right day to visit.

"It doesn't matter," Saul said, and now he was the one who sounded like someone who had been trying far too long to get something through another person's too thick skull.

"That's because you think it's not the real Source, but if it is, and we kill him instead of sending someone else, you'd be the Source."

"Or you'd be, and that would be a real nightmare."

"It would, wouldn't it?" He said, making an appearance.

They freeze.

"Yeah," Saul said, regaining his wit, then attempting to shimmer out.

"Ha ha, you can't do that, I'm afraid. See, I wasn't planning on killing you when I came back, but during those two years that I have been back, you've been nothing but trouble. Mikhail's really mad at you."

"Your darklighter? You're following his orders?"

"No, he wanted you dead when he first met you. I didn't think it was necessary back then, but now, alas, it is." He paused. "Aren't you going to fight back?"

"I think I've peed myself, dad," the daughter said.

"You won't be killed, sweetheart," He said, went to her chair and touched her shoulder gently. She collapsed.

"What did you do?" Eve screamed, standing up, fireball in her right hand and a knife in the left. She was ambidextrous. He had forgotten. Well, not a problem to Him.

He concentrated, the knife turned into a pork chop and the fire ball landed in the wall just next to Him.

"She'll be fine. You however, will not."

He froze Saul, and shot a line of fire at the mother, which she ducked. He then blew her up and shot a line of fire at Saul.

His business there was partly done.

He wiped the daughter's memories, suppressed her powers, and left her at an orphanage. The whole thing took about an hour.

He then wrote a quick summary about what had happened with Saul and Eve for Mikhail, and returned to the boy.

He hated returning to the boy, but He had to. Unfortunately.


	3. On the Hair Thin Line Between F and E

On the Hair Thin Line Between F and E

"Ugh, no," I mumbled, pulling the duvet over my head.

"Ben, wake up. You should've been at school an hour ago, wake up." I recognized grandma's grating voice. Wait, hour ago?

I opened my eyes, and put the duvet underneath my chin.

"Are you awake?" Grandma looked down at me, her too red lips pursed and her eyes, framed by painted eyebrows and brown eyeliner, glared at me.

I nodded.

"Good. You should've been at school an hour ago, I've checked your schedule, and you'll only miss one class if you don't shower or eat breakfast. You have ten minutes to be out of the door, so hurry."

"Mhm," I said, and curled up on my nice, warm bed. I'd already missed part of the day, could just as well stay in bed.

Grandma pushed me down on the floor. For a supposedly frail old woman she's very strong.

"Fine, I'm going, going," I muttered.

I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and looked in the mirror. I grimaced as well as you can with a toothbrush in your mouth, since girly and rat-like is a great way to describe me. I'm sure I'll look great someday, but today nor the next month ain't it. I put the toothbrush back in the cabinet, saw the sleeping pills, cursed them, went back to my bedroom and put on some clothes that looked and smelled okay. I then rushed down the stairs.

I made a sandwich (it doesn't take ten minutes to brush your teeth and get dressed, though maybe if you use makeup...?) and went out the door. It was a nice, beautiful day, the sun was shining, which made me wince as I slowly started walking towards school.

I was sure that I hadn't hated the sunlight so much before, when I was younger, but now, I just couldn't stand sunny days. They hurt my eyes. But I lived in Seattle, so there wasn't that many.

Despite my reluctance to get out of bed, I really liked Mondays. We may start early, but practically the whole day was filled with substitutes. My school prided itself on always having teachers (which is a feat in a bad neighborhood), unfortunately they got the young ones, those who spent Sundays partying and then woke up on Mondays with hangovers. It was fun when we had substitutes, but it was even more fun when the teachers was there. It wasn't as if we knew what an indoor voice was.

* * *

___"You think you're ready to go to the penthouse?" the mean lady asked. "You haven't been there, you know, since, since he died."_

___"I don't think that I'll ever be ready. But I can't keep borrowing your clothes."_

___"Okay, let's go."_

___"Hey, don't you have to work?"_

___"Eh, I'll take the afternoon of. Who needs vacation time?"_

___"Paige, you can't keep-"_

___"Yes, I can. Yeah."_

___"Thank you," mommy said, and started to walk away._

___"Bitch!" I yelled, turning around. That awful witch. I pushed her out the window. And I wasn't sorry._

* * *

I ran up the stairs to my locker, and then ran down the stairs to get to the classroom. The teacher hadn't arrived yet.

"Hey," Gina said, standing next to John and Simon. They stood in a group away from the rest of the class.

Gina, John and Simon were my friends. Simon and I had known each other since kindergarten but the others was a different story. John kinda just latched on to us, but I don't think he likes us, and then he invited Gina because she got picked on because of her weight.

"Hey." I leaned against the wall, and tried to get my breathing under control.

"I covered for you," Simon told me, looking like he usually did with an Afro and his jeans jacket.

"Thanks."

"Why don't you just go to bed early, Ben?" John asked. These kinds of questions made me wonder why he even was friends with us. That and him being so orderly all the time, contrasting with Simon, Gina and I being slobs.

"Well, I do, but it doesn't work. I can't sleep, then I do, then I can't, then I take a sleeping pill, and then I wake up and run to school. It's the natural order of things," I shrugged.

John just looked mad at me, but he didn't say anything else.

Five minutes later, the teacher still hadn't arrived.

"Was I really that early?"

"No," John said. "The teacher's late."

"Unless it's a substitute," Gina suggested.

"Yeah. Hey, wanna know what we did in math?" Simon asked.

"Sure," I said. Gina sat down on the floor. "Must have been tiring."

"They barricaded the door," John said.

"Yeah," Simon said, and laughed.

"It was kinda funny," John said.

"Who did you barricade against?"

"That's the funny part," Gina said, and started to laugh. Soon, they were all laughing.

"What?" I asked.

"No one," John said, having gotten his laughter under control. "The substitute was in the classroom, and the idiots didn't notice."

I sniggered.

"Did something else happen?"

"No, not really," Gina said. "I just envy you because you've slept. There was a movie last night I wanted to see, but I didn't realize it was gonna end at three am."

Simon and I made sympathetic noises, while John frowned. Probably though we should be more responsible.

* * *

___"Let the object of objection become but a dream, as I cause this scene to be unseen."_

___"Thanks," mommy said._

___"I just wish that I could make the rest of your pain go away that easily."_

___"So do I," mommy said._

___"You murdering witch!" I yelled._

* * *

"Fuck," I said, standing in line for a glass of water. We were in the bustling cafeteria.

"What?" Simon asked. He stood right behind me.

"Do you remember that imagine thing we have for English?"

"Yeah," Simon said, confused.

"I didn't do it. And she's new, she doesn't get that no one here thinks Mondays are worthwhile."

"Meh. Tell her you've been sick," he suggested, as we walked towards an empty table in the middle of the cafeteria.

"I'm on the hair thin line between an E and an F. I can't just fuck up the assignment."

"What assignment?" Gina asked and sat down.

"The English one, I assume?" John asked and sat down.

"Yeah. Hey, could I copy yours?"

There came a resounding "No" from all three of them.

"Seriously guys? Not a single line?"

"It's, like, the easiest thing ever. You can do it in class," Simon said.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

* * *

___It was warm, and nice. Then, it was cold. Why was mommy allowing this? I wanted it to be warm! Then the mean man started to move around the cold. Why wasn't mommy doing anything? I decided ____to do something myself, and I hurt him. He fell into a wall._

___"Did your baby just electrocute the nice doctor man?"_

___Electrocute, that was what I did. He deserved it._

* * *

Then, it turned out Simon wasn't right. He might've been, but he wasn't. The new teacher had not heard of the school's unofficial policy of allowing students the right to do the homework in class. She thought the homework should be given to her at the door. I gave her my book, did the exercises and hoped she wouldn't notice.

She did. She wanted to talk to me after class, and since it was not the last class of the day, I couldn't say I had something after school.

"I have a class soon," I told her as soon as she had closed the door after the last student.

"I'll walk you to it, I'm certain the teacher'll understand. Do you know what this is about?" She sat down on one of the tables in the classroom, the lights in it making her skin look pallid and her hair dirty. She was going for a good impression, so it probably wasn't dirty.

"No," I muttered, not sitting down despite her obviously wanting me to do so.

"Ben, I know you haven't done your homework," she said, looking very understanding and know-it-all-y. "I know you're aware of the precarious position your grade is in, so why didn't you do this? It was, it is, the simplest thing ever."

"I... uh..." I said eloquently, trying to come up with an excuse.

"Yes?"

"I sorta forgot, and then I thought I would do it during class, but you demanded the books the first thing you did, so I didn't have time."

"Why... Why do you even do these kinds of things when you're about to fail?" she said, losing the understanding look.

"Because... well... I don't know. I haven't been sleeping well lately. And then when I'm awake, I'm just tired. And my little sister refuses to sleep at night and she's usually in the clo-, eh, room next to mine. She screams a lot. I try, I do, but I just don't have enough time and it's just, it was just, this assignment was just so easy... I guess it slipped my mind."

I looked down at my feet and did my best to look remorseful... and tired.

"It's fine, Benjamin. You can do this 'til next time, but I want yours to be two pages, oka-"

"What?"

"It's a poem, two pages is not that long."

"Okay, okay. Thanks," I smiled, deciding not to push my chances."I owe you."

* * *

"___Okay so, what I'm about to tell you is really big. We're talking huge."_

"___See, she knows."_

"___Knows what?"_

"___You tell us._

"___Okay, I, I'm, I'm pregnant."_

"___You're what?"_

"___Oh my god, with _Cole___?"_

* * *

"FOOD!" Grandma yelled from downstairs.

"COMING!" I called, and rose from my bed. I was supposed to be writing the fucking poem, but I hadn't gotten that far. I had written 'I imagine', which was what you were supposed to start with. Then I had to fill two pages with meaningless shit. Like, what kind of idiot spends their time imagining the future, or whatever? Okay, so maybe I wanted to win the lotto, but I didn't see myself actually ___doing_ it.

I angrily threw the book at the floor and ran down the stairs.

It was dinner. I had other things to think about. Like what kind of dish grandma had mangled this time.

When I arrived at the kitchen, mom was already trying to serve grandma's soup. Part of it had gotten stuck to the bottom, and it wasn't going that well, though she had already served grandma and grandpa. Jennifer was too young for real food, lucky her.

"Do you need help?" I asked mom.

"Yes, please," she said, relieved. I took the cooking pot from her and managed to get out something that looked like dried vomit for Joanie and Jamie, the two twin horrors of the house. But at least they didn't scream the night through, not that Jennifer does that kind of thing either anymore. I grabbed a knife and served mom and dad.

I sat down and along with the rest of the family, tried to look as if I was enjoying the food. We may not like the food, but we didn't feel like cooking either.

After lunch there was dessert, just a fancy way of saying: 'raid the kitchen for junk food.'

I went upstairs with the Twix bar I had managed to wrestle from Jamie, deciding to write a poem about what dinner would be like if someone who knew how to cook made it.

___I imagine a day_

___When grandma did not make dinner_

___it would be a beautiful day_

___the birds would be chirping_

___I would be happy_

___the whole family would be happy..._

I was fully immersed in my poem when my creative process was interrupted by the smell of smoke. Really, really rank smoke. Oh, god. I hope it's not something important.

I hurried out of my room and into Jeanie's and Jamie's, which was right next to mine. Joanie was, of course, smiling and Jamie was, you guessed it, crying.

"Ben, what did you do?" Grandma came and asked, looking like all that she wanted to do was to mysteriously find a gun and then shoot me, which, in all honesty, was an overreaction as this happened all the time.

"Nothing... Why the fuck do you always think I've done something?"

"Because you're usually the perpetrator, Ben," grandma answered, and sighed.

"So then you just assume that it's ___me_? Why the hell would I upset them? I usually ___avoid _'em! And I don't burn plastic, it ___stinks_."

I pushed myself out of the door, Grandma blocking it.

Bitch!

She's just so, so, arghh sometimes. I don't know what it is, but she hates me for some reason. Maybe it's because I'm adopted? Not really one of her grandchildren, it's alright to treat ___me_ like crap. It's not as if ___I_ matter or something.


	4. An Old Assassin and a Bogeyman

**AN: Cole's POV.**

An Old Assassin and a Bogeyman

I first made contact with two of the targets at a crime scene. Funny enough, at a crime scene caused by a demon.

"Ladies, my name is Cole Turner. I'm the Assistant District Attorney assigned to this case... I was wondering if either of you saw what happened here?"

Phoebe, with light brown hair and colorful clothing, raised her hand. "I did," she said, and I could see her sister, Prue, rolling her eyes.

They told me their version of what happened, which to me was obviously fake. They didn't scare away the host of a Guardian just by walking by. In the Underworld, Guardians isn't much to hurray for, but up here, they are.

Low level demons usually have trouble getting out of the Underworld, so the Guardians decided to become incorporeal to get out, something that wasn't affected by the wards surrounding the Underworld. But they still wanted to remain alive, something that they had to kill for, but since they weren't corporeal they couldn't do that without possessing the dregs of human society. It was perhaps not the brightest idea to do so in San Francisco, where the Charmed Ones lived.

* * *

I was watching Wyatt and Chris sitting in front of the TV, Wyatt playing on his phone (it was old, which he wasn't very happy about but since the Halliwells' still, for some reason, got attacked by demons regularly he couldn't get a new and expensive one) and Chris watching re-runs on the TV.

It was a pretty calm morning in the Halliwell Manor, unfortunately.

Something that I got from limbo, and occasionally being able to leave limbo, was patience. I didn't use to be the most patient of people, but necessity had turned me into one.

Having checked in on Wyatt and Chris, there really wasn't much to do today. I could go check what Piper was making for lunch, but it was probably mouth-watering as usual and I couldn't eat it.

Checking in on Phoebe would just make me jealous of Coop. Not that I didn't like that she had met someone, someone who loved her, it still hurt that it wasn't me. But just a bit nowadays.

I sighed, and sat down next to the boys to watch TV. At least it wasn't a cartoon. I had to com-

There was a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. It wasn't nervousness, it-

It went black.

* * *

"...well?"

"Wha?"

"My summoning spell might have been a bit too powerful and you... heheh... appeared in the middle of the air, and, subsequently, hit your head. It was quite horrifying watching someone nearly die. Not that you can die, since you're between life and death."

I opened my eyes. The sight that greeted me did not match the voice, which was kind of sensuous, and the woman who was leaning over me was one third gorgeous, one third skeleton and one third visible muscle, sinews and veins.

"Does this mean I'm dead now? Aren't you a bit behind on your work?" I demanded.

"I though the Underworld was scared of me?" she asked, her one eyebrow raised and through the other eye you could see her brain.

Hel was the demonic childrens' bogeyman, along with the Ice Truck Man. The Ice Truck Man killed you indirectly, Hel sent you to the Demonic Wasteland if you'd been stupid enough to get killed or she stole parts of your body to make herself beautiful. The stealing of body parts was, I could see now, not something that she actually did.

"You're the bogeyman."

"Oh. Maybe I should put in a visit? Well, that's not why I summoned you. Do you want a seat? I have a very comfy couch, armchair and chaise. I'm taking the chaise," she said, and lay down on it. She turned to her side and looked at me. "Please, have a seat."

I sat down on the couch. "This is, eh, nice."

"Yes, I know." She smiled contentedly, and didn't say anything.

"You summoned me?"

"Yes."

"For what?"

"I have a business proposal," she said, and the remained silent.

"You want me to ask you what it is, right?" A nod. "What is the nature of the proposal and why have you chosen me and not someone else?"

"The nature is... a good word is good. It's watching over and helping a teenage witch-demon. You were chosen because he probably can't kill you, you were easy to get-" I couldn't help but snort ", and you're a family member. To some people, family is important."

"Family? I don't have a teenage family member."

"You do," she said, not offering anymore information.

"Can we stop the guessing game?"

"No."

"Fine then. The family member I ___don't _have is a teenager, and the child of a witch and a demon. No, no you're not saying that mine and Phoebe's child survived, are you?"

"He didn't survive exactly, he died. But I felt it was unfair to have him die just because the Source possessed him, so I gave him new life along with the Source."

"I am not helping the Source," I said, wondering what her relationship with the Source was.

"Am I not intimidating enough, or what?" she asked, hopefully having given up on the guessing game.

"You are, you are, Hel, believe me. I just don't want to work for the Source because he destroyed my life." She may not steal body parts, but she had resurrected the Source and the witch-demon. Anyone who could do that was powerful.

"I think you did that all on your own," Hel said. "I don't appear to have explained this well enough. Your son may have been the host of the Source when he ___died_, but he is now because I didn't remove the Source from him, nor did I actually try since I think they'll be good for each other. Also, Ben is right now just a lazy teenager. There is no reason for you to hate him."

"Then why do you even want me to watch over him?"

"Because the last time the Halliwells lost their powers and then used a spell to get them back, he was included and some of his powers are free. The Source is also free, but Ben doesn't know any of this. Anyways, they're going to do this again. Ben's magic and his family's magic is both working against mine, and really, I've only got power powering the spell. It's not very finessed and that it's lasted this long is great."

"Then what do you want me to do? Teach him how to use his powers? Do you know what's going to happen then? The Source is going to take over and ___kill me_."

"See, that's the good part. You're in limbo, you can't die. It doesn't matter what he does."

"What about my mental health?"

"That's never been very good," she said dismissively.

"What do I get from this?"

"Your son."

"That's not gonna cut it."

"Okay then. I'll give you a corporeal body and a position in law of your choosing. That enough for you?"

"I'd say so. When do I start?"

"From now you'll have one day to settle, then keep an eye on him until something happens. If he happens to die, I'll give him to Jörmungandr, he's ___very _mad about you killing his son."

"That's fine."

"Good."

She sat up from the chaise and waved her skeleton arm.

* * *

I woke from the alarm clock with a pounding headache and my head filled with information about my new co-workers at the law firm I was working at. Hel was right. Finesse was something she really needed to work on.

The apartment that Hel had given me was nice, but lacked any kind of sustenance. I figured I was lucky she had managed to give me clothes, even though a shower would've been nice too (it also lacked towels and soap), but I figured I could go to the supermarket after work today and add things living beings needed. Was I alive? I'd probably figure it out today.

* * *

Having found out I was alive, and meeting my co-workers, two of whom were insufferable, I set to the task that Hel had given me.

Seeing Ben, for the first time, was hard. He looked a lot like me and a lot like Phoebe. Maybe I was just projecting, but he looked so much like us. Unfortunately it didn't seem like he had inherited our personalities. A winning argument for the nurture side in the Nature vs Nurture argument.

He was lazy. Maybe it had sometimes happened that neither I nor Phoebe had felt like doing anything, but that was apparently what he felt like all the time. Hel was right, Ben was nothing more than a lazy teenager.

I had watched over him for four school days, and so far he'd been late every day but one, and when he got back home he sometimes helped with his twin siblings, and sometimes read, but otherwise he didn't do anything.

Neither did Ben know about the Source, and he didn't know about me watching over him. The Source did know about that part.

He found out on the third day that I was watching over Ben. Ben had just fallen asleep, and I felt a bit like a creep watching over him while he slept, so I was about to leave, when another Ben rose from the sleeping Ben. Ben II then looked right at me, and I could see his black eyes. The Source.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered, and I wondered who he was talking to. I hadn't heard the door open, and hadn't everyone else in the house gone to bed about an hour ago? "Belthazor, what is going on?"

I was surprised that he could see me, I was invisible to human-

Oh. He's not human.

"I'm watching over him. Hel told me to."

"The boy's very mad at you, you know. He's always wondered what the hell made his parents give him up, so you better not tell him who you are, exactly." The Source was now standing right in front of me. He wasn't of the impressive stature that he used to have, but he didn't really need it either.

"If you ___ever _try to stop me, again, you'll be dead."

I smiled at that. His threat wasn't even nearing Hel's.

"Well, I suppose that wouldn't frighten you anymore. But just so you know, Hel won't always be there to protect you, and there are some places where even she doesn't know what's going on. Like the Torture Dungeons."

The Source flamed away.

What surprised me about the encounter wasn't that he could see me, but that he appeared to care a lot about Ben. Why doesn't he want Ben upset? Ben being upset would make it so much easier for the Source to take over.

The fifth day, a Saturday, was a day when I could watch over him the whole time, something that I had been wanting to do, because really, he must do something other than sleep, school and occasionally helping out with the twins.

On Saturday he was at his friend's, Simon. Simon lived in an apartment complex in one of the bad parts of town. The apartment that Simon and his father lived in was filthy, but Ben didn't seem to mind. It probably reminded him of his own bedroom.

Ben and Simon spent the day playing cards, just talking and joking. Then they watched a movie, and Ben left at about ten. The walk towards the bus stop should've taken about ten minutes, but he got mugged. I was weighing the cons and pros of saving him when Ben pushed the mugger and he went further than Ben should've been able to push him. About as far as the mugger would've gone had I pushed him.

Ben had gotten his powers back, and I could imagine the screaming matches going on at Halliwell Manor over Wyatt missing football practice and P.J. missing dance practice because of a demon.

Ben threw a fireball, and the mugger went up in fire. He looked quite distraught at that, so I decided that it was time to interfere.


	5. A Panicking Boy

A Panicking Boy

I left Simon's at ten, which, admittedly, was a bit late. I had of course been at Simon's longer before, but then it was for a sleep over or dad had picked me up with the car, but after the car crash three months ago we didn't have a car. Thanks grandpa, it's not as if you could've told us your eye sight was getting worse.

But, I figured, you just had to act like you belonged there and maybe nothing would happen. Hell, Simon had lived here his whole life and nothing bad had happened to him, unless you count the time when he was ten and offered heroin and actually bought it. Back then it was terrifying having your best friend driven to the nearest hospital from drug poisoning, but in hindsight it was pretty funny.

I took my phone out of the pocket and checked the time. It had been three minutes since I left Simon's. It was seven minutes until I could reach the bus stop, and then there was the bus itself, and fuck, I didn't have anything to defend myself with. Nothing. I didn't even have a heavy bag.

Ben, don't walk faster, seriously, don't run, nothing is gonna hurt you. Nothing. Be calm and breathe slowly, fuck up is a no-no.

Then, in the midst of rambling in my mind, sick with fear, I got pulled into an alley.

"Give me your money!" a guy with a gun yelled. He was waving the gun in my face. Don't pee Ben, you don't have to embarrass yourself.

"I..." I couldn't finish the sentence, my head was empty. The mugger waved his gun again, and hit me on the nose. "I don't have any money! Please, please don't-" The mugger pushed me into a wall. "Oof."

His hands were all over me, in my crotch, pocket, palming my ass, they were everywhere and I could feel his breath on my face, there was a distinct smell of alcohol around him and this was way worse than the drunks on the bus.

I pushed him, and I didn't expect him to go far, I wasn't very strong, but he went five feet and on his ass. "Heh."

The mugger heaved himself up on his elbows, and I waved at him, maybe he'd stay down, I had waved and then to my shock there came fire shaped like a ball from my right hand and the mugger burned up.

I was breathing hard, and my legs collapsed underneath me.

I'd been mugged. I was a victim of mugging. The mugger had fucking groped me. I couldn't breathe and my chest heaved and there wasn't enough air in my lungs. There wasn't enough air and my face was all wet.

Oh! I had killed someone, right? Like in the dreams, killing someone by, what was it, I know, fire ball. My breathing was slowing down. This was just like in the dreams, and then it must be a dream and then this couldn't be real.

I took a deep, fortifying breath and took a peek at where the mugger had been. There was a scorch mark on the ground, and reality came crashing down.

Oh, what if he had a kid? Wife and a family? There's not enough air, why isn't there enough air and the tears were yet again streaming down my face.

I buried my head in my knees and took deep breaths. I was going to be fine. Everybody gets mugged once in their life. It's not that big of a deal.

How many kills their muggers?

No, Ben, don't think about that. Think about, about something else. Like, eh, Simon, this is all Simon's fault, I can't think of him.

My bed! It was nice and soft but not too soft. I had a duvet to sleep underneath, mom and dad had given it to me my last birthday. It was second hand but it only took two washes to get the smell of wet dog out of it.

There was a sort of warm and sea-sick feeling around me. That was also like in the dreams, when he went from one place to another, shouldn't that mean that I'm in another place right now, a place that isn't dirty and there are no scorch marks and why isn't there enough air?

I took a deep breath, I mean, there was no harm in looking right? The worst that could happen would be me passing out from lack of oxygen. That wasn't so bad.

I removed my hands from my face, and to my relief I could see the green walls of my bedroom , and I was sitting in my dirty jeans and shoes on the bed with light-colored covers.

Shit, grandma's gonna kill me.

But I was in the bedroom, the shoes and jeans were, well, I had just sleepwalked and I hadn't killed anyone. Right. The whole thing was just a dream.

I uncurled and felt relieved. Nothing had happened. Yeah. And then I yawned, heh, tired as usual. It's just like waking up from a dream. My sleep has been so exhausting that all I wanted to do was go back to sleep.

Then there was a weird sparkle in the air and a tall, brown-haired guy in a suit appeared. That has to be an hallucination. Or I was still dreaming.

"Hello, Ben," the guy said in a voice ___thought_ to be comforting. It was more business-like than anything.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Cole, and I'm going to help you with the powers that you recently got back."

"My what now?" I asked.

"Tonight, you got mugged and then killed the mugger with your powers. I'm here to help you with that."

"Oh! You're an hallucination. You must be, or this is still a dream since the whole mugging was a dream," I explained and made an expression that said there-you-go-my-logic-is-flawless.

"Then how did you get here? You were at Simon's this evening, how did you get home?" he asked, and he looked pitying, but he stopped being so business-like. He could relate to being a murderer apparently.

"That is ___none_ of your business and you're not real!"

The guy sighed. Well, what the hell did my subconsciousness expect? I'm not going to believe anything.

Then there was steps outside of my door and the guy disappeared, but not in the same way that he had arrived. There was a knock on my door.

"Ben?" grandma asked, and then she opened the door. Why hasn't she learned to talk through the door, there's no reason to open it. "You were yelling, and we didn't know you were home."

"No, I... I didn't want to wake Jennifer."

"Well, your yelling certainly accomplished that. Think first, next time." She made to leave. "Why is your bed all dirty?" she asked, having noticed what I didn't want her to notice. Why couldn't she just stop caring?

"I fell... uh, when I walked here from the, uh, bus stop. And then I was tired when I got here and didn't feel like undressing."

"Go to sleep earlier then, and you won't have this problem." She closed the door. The guy appeared again.

"I don't have time for you," I said and waved my hand at him. His mouth stopped wide open, and I turned towards the wall and curled up to sleep.

It took longer than usual because I couldn't shake off the mugging, and well, the mugging might not be a dream, right? There was all this evidence, but that had happened before with dreams, but then they had been about him and it had been tiny things. This time I'd probably wake up with lice or something.

"You have to have tim- Oh," the guy said. I groaned.

"I was just about to sleep, okay? Stop bothering me," I said in a quiet voice. If grandma hears me screaming one more time she'll probably force me to throw my clothes in the washer and change the sheets.

"Listen to me, Ben. The mugging wasn't a dream. You killed the mugger with a fire ball."

"I'm not listening to you," I told him, like Jeanie used to do to me when I tried to make her flush the toilet.

"You killed the mugger with a fire ball. You can do that since you got your powers back, today. You probably felt a weird tingling sometime during the day, and then you felt better than you had in a long time. Am I right?"

"Okay, so I actually ___did_ listen," I admitted. "And you might be right, but that doesn't mean I believe you're real."

The guy reached out and grabbed my arm, hard enough to leave bruises. "I understand that you're tired and doesn't want this to be true, but it is and you're going to have to deal. I'll help you clean this mess," he offered, and released my arm.

"Oh? How?" I demanded.

"A spell. You're doing poetry in English right now, I'm sure you'll come up with something useful."

I frowned. "Did I understand that correctly? I say a ___poem, _of all things, and then this mess will disappear?"

"Yes. Something along the lines of 'I want this mess clean, clean it for me...'. Maybe specify it a bit," he suggested.

"Right. You'll disappear then?"

"Yes, I suppose so," he said, rather aggressively.

"Uh..." I said, thinking. Clean my bed, my jeans...

"___Clean my bed_

___Clean my jeans_

___Make them washed_

___And dirt-free._"

To my surprise, the duvet went back to it's original color, and the jeans didn't look dusty anymore. Then I noticed that the shoes were still dirty, so I carefully lifted them into the air and started unlacing them.

"Do you now believe you have powers and that the mugging happened?" the guy asked.

"And that you're real," I added. I had now removed the shoes, and, well, the clothes next to the bed should've been washed a month ago, so I dropped the shoes on them. "But what does it mean? For me? I have powers, am I a wizard? Warlock? What's your name, you never told me?" I said, and yawned. If I wasn't so curious and the guy not so threatening I would have postponed this conversation until tomorrow.

"You're a powerful half witch, half demon. This means that you have to learn how to control your powers before you accidentally hurt or kill someone. And my name is Cole."

"Coal as in charcoal?"

"No. Cole as in C-O-L-E."

"Okay. Now that I know all this, could we just start practicing tomorrow or something, because I'm really tired."

"Yes. I'll come by here tomorrow at 11."

"Great, bye now," I said, then started pulling of my jeans. The belt would dig into my stomach if I left it on, and this would hopefully get Cole to leave. He did, and I then curled up underneath the duvet.

I had been laying there for quite some time when I decided that a sleeping pill would be just the thing, so I went and got one and then finally managed to get to sleep.

I just couldn't stop thinking about the mugging.

* * *

The boy was finally asleep, and now He had to threaten Belthazor. He had known that there was a reason Belthazor had been sent here by Hel, but he didn't think it was about the boy being aware of his powers. He had hoped it was about Hel wanting to bring together a family.

He had to make sure Belthazor didn't let anything slip. The boy wouldn't be able to handle it, not right now. Instead of leaving as fast as He could, He stayed on the bed. Belthazor wouldn't have left.

"Do you want anything?" Belthazor asked, appearing in the position of leaning against the wall. His dark suit blended well into the shadows.

"I don't think you should speak that way to me," He said. He would remain quiet until Belthazor addressed him correctly.

"My Lord, I want to know if there is anything you want?"

"Are you going to say anything about me?"

"No, Ben'll find out on his own soon enough."

"You think so?"

"Yes. Hel seems to care a lot about you, go and ask her. I don't know much more."

He looked at Belthazor a long time. Belthazor looked saner than he had when He had been wearing him. Not as tired, not as desperate to remain in control. No pregnant wife to worry about.

"You look well," He said, and flamed away. He had work to do. Tonight he was meeting with some of the Lords in the Underworld and a Leader. And, he thought, looking down on the loose briefs and the black t-shirt, he needed to dress for the occasion.

******AN: The reason Cole didn't appear while Ben was freaking out in an alley is that he didn't really know how to handle a crying teenager, so he waited until Ben stopped crying like a broken faucet. **


	6. All Eventful on the Eastern Front

******AN: IMPORTANT! This chapter immediately follows the previous chapter and it's from Mikhail's point of view.**

The Eventful Eastern Front

The Source tied his tie with jerky motions. I didn't ask if something was wrong, since I valued my life, but I had an inkling to what it was. See, the Source had appeared two years ago, and of course I, as a dedicated Underworld citizen, wanted to help him regain his power. No, not really, but it was something to do that might end up with me ruling the Underworld.

After I had agreed to start working with him, we had quickly established a schedule: I worked days and he nights. Sometimes he arrived late and sometimes early. He often grumbled about 'the boy'. He disappeared just like that, and he never seemed to be prepared to leave, it was like his leaving wasn't something that he controlled.

My working theory was that he was under the control of a warlock or a demon. So far it had seemed useful that he was, because then if he got mad at me I would have twice as much time to run as he had to find me. Unfortunately it also made him mad.

"The files," he demanded, putting his hand out.

"Here, my lord," I told him and gave them to him. He leafed through them, looking at the names, thinking.

"I'll talk, you only speak when spoken to."

"Yes, my lord." I decided to not roll my eyes, since I didn't feel like running tonight. "May I ask what's wrong?"

"No."

* * *

___Hello mom!_

___I have good news for you, I've been moved to the front. I love being here. There's a special kind of friendship that comes with risking your life constantly that my comrades and I love. You feel better than you do after a big glass of vodka, well, I do, I think you'd feel the same as after a big glass of vodka._

___Anyway, enough about me and the front, how are you, mom? I hope you're well and healthy. This winter is very cold, I hope you're keeping warm._

___What about Svetlana? She was five last time I saw her, so young and sweet. How is she now? Grown, I suppose. I know I gained ten centimeters then, you say it so often. Not that I mind._

___One thing not here is you telling embarrassing stories about me, and now I miss it. You had a special way of telling embarrassing stories that my comrades hasn't mastered._

___Your son, Mikhail._

* * *

I was in the middle of a serious discussion with the Source about who to remove so that our plans would come to fruition when he disappeared. I sighed. Well, he would soon be back. I hoped.

I sat there for half an hour before coming to the conclusion that he would not be back until later. Shouldn't his warlock be better at this? Or did they not talk to each other at all and the warlock was completely unaware of the power he had over the Source?

Oh.

That could be it.

About 15 years ago, the Source had gotten married to one of the Charmed Ones and then died, well, he'd been vanquished by the Charmed Ones. Probably a marriage spat gone too far. However, the Charmed One had been pregnant at the time. What the hell was her name again? Well, P-something. Phoebe! Anyhow, the Seer that the Source had used then wanted to be the Source herself, so she stole the baby who somehow had gotten the Source's powers and put it into her own womb. Then there was a big fire, and she wasn't heard from again, nor was the others who had been in the Source's inner circle at the time. The baby was thought to have died with the rest of them, since Phoebe didn't go back to being pregnant until years later.

But what if the baby had survived? It would be around 15 now, probably going to school and sometimes staying up late or being tired and going to bed early. It might not be aware of the Source, and that was why the Source disappeared sometimes. He probably needed the child's powers, probably astral projection.

I needed to think more about this.

* * *

"___You want?" Chekhov asked, handing me a piece of meat._

"___Yeah," I said, my mouth watering. I didn't care that it was probably rat, since we had run out of horses and dogs quite a while ago._

"___You know what I miss the most about home?" Chekhov asked. I already knew the answer but I asked anyway. He liked hearing his own voice._

"___The forest. In the summer, there'd be so much berries, and I'd pick them and then dad would make blinis and we'd eat the berries with them. Better than being a cannibal," he added quietly._

"___Really?" I asked. "It's surprisingly tasty."_

___He just looked at the ground and chewed slowly. I guess he thinks this is awful._

* * *

I had, after spending some time thinking about it, decided to see if my theory checked out. This included going to the Darkighter Archives and see if there was any witches in the right age group that were adopted and brunette. I hadn't been here since I started working for the Source and it took me a long time to find the right filing cabinet.

"You're going to start working for us again?" a female voice asked me. I froze with my hand in one the drawers. "I'm guessing no."

"No," I said, turning towards her. It was Sonja.

"So you're using ___our_ resources to run ___his_ errands?"

"No."

"What, you do things without him telling you?"

"Yes, I do things for myself too. I'm not really one to immerse myself in only one task," I told her, even though this was for the Source.

"Yeah, that I know. I remember it, actually," Sonja said. She had been a whitelighter together with me back in the day.

"I'm sure you do," I said, and then went back to looking at the names of witches the age that the child would have. There was a hell of a lot of people, but I could discount one. Wyatt Halliwell.

"What are you looking for then?" Sonja asked.

"That's none of your business," I told her. "Could you leave?"

"No."

"Fine then."

With her there, I didn't dare to go through the files and see if the kids were adopted or see if there was some information implying the parents and the child didn't make four.

"Are you going to leave soon?"

"When you leave. When are you leaving?"

"Soon," I sighed, then I started memorizing the names. It would take longer, but she would hopefully not suspect what I was actually doing. Ha. No one would. Unfortunately, Sonja would probably think I was looking into a young witch to pervert, which wasn't going to do anything for my reputation.

When I had finished memorizing the names, I shut the two drawers I had been looking through and then gestured for Sonja to leave. She complied, and we left together, though she'd be back to rifle through the files I had been looking at, and then she'd tell everyone in whatever group of darklighters she currently worked with what I had been doing there, the most perverted version possible.

Well, what do I care?

I've never been very good at lying to myself.

* * *

"___You're so freaking lucky," Chekhov groaned, sitting next to me in the trench. I glanced at him._

"___You have to hold the rifle in your hands idiot, you can't shoot otherwise."_

___He coughed and some blood spattered on the ground. I dropped my own rifle and began to frantically look for a wound, and there was one in his right shoulder._

"___Let's go to the field hospital, okay, you'll be fine," I said, frowning, trying to keep my breathing under control._

"___Yeah," Chekhov groaned._

"___We'll have to walk slowly and bend over," I said._

"___Why not do the other kind of bending over?" he leered at me. I glared at him. "Fine, I won't-" cough "-joke."_

___It took some time, and Chekhov was steadily getting worse, but we were now just a few feet away from the field hospital._

"___I'm dead now," Chekhov said._

"___No!" I yelled. "No you're not, we're almost there and then you'll be just fine."_

___I saw it then, the body parts that were literally piling up on the right side of the hospital and the corpses on the left side._

"___I'll be one of them, but that's fine. This country's worth dying for."_

"___I..." I sniffled. "Fuck, don't die on me."_

___His coughing got worse, and in the end I had to drag him there, and then everyone were too busy to tend to him, but then I managed to get him in in exchange for cigarettes._

___I saw him die, five minutes later._

* * *

It had been five days so far, since with Magic School there was an abundance of well-trained witches no one really liked going after. I had been through Europe, Asia and Australia, but there was no witches there matching the criteria. The criteria was:

-an air of general threat

-a likeness to Cole and Phoebe, as in brunette

-if the witch displayed powers, they were fire powers

-male

I was really glad that the criteria actually managed to remove someone from the list of suspects.

Today I was going to start with North America. I decided to skip Canada and start with the U.S., or Seattle. There was actually three witches in Seattle, the most in any city in the U.S. If you discount New York and San Francisco.

Currently I was checking out Jeffrey Adler, a witch who went to Magic School and was apparently really good with putting stuff on fire. He was currently waiting outside the gates of a school he didn't go to, that was in the poor part of town, and I was looking at him. He did fit the criteria, except he was blonde and the Source was taller, but it could be that he wanted to appear tall to frighten people. Even though the Tall Man was dead, everybody still remembered him.

The students were now leaving the entrance of the school. The day was over. Jeffrey still stood there, and I was wondering if I really could sacrifice my sleep tonight to see if he really was the Source, when a guy walked past me.

This wasn't me being surprised at the beauty of his sun-kissed skin (it looked like he hadn't seen the sun in about a month), sharpness of his cheekbones (he looked rather girly, I like my men manly) and full, red mouth (which did look rather kissable), it was more me recognizing him.

He had an air of general threat, he looked like Cole and Phoebe, though mostly Phoebe and he just reminded me of the Source. He had the same body language, if a bit more relaxed.

He left his group of friends to, maybe, walk home.

"Bye Ben!" one of his friends called.

Right, his name was Ben, definitely short for Benjamin. I went through my list of names, that I had put into my phone. He wasn't there. Of course, it was possible the darklighters hadn't discovered him, for some reason. Maybe... uh... maybe he didn't have a whitelighter. Since I had been one, I knew that the system wasn't perfect.

Him, I could sacrifice sleep to follow.

* * *

___My arm hurt, or rather, the place where my arm had been hurt. My throat was sore._

"___You'll be fine, survived one amputation already."_

___All I could hear was suffering. I must be part of it, but I couldn't hear myself._

"___Hold here, where's the saw?"_

"___Here, doc. We need more."_

"___I know. Hold him."_

___My leg was very warm, and I could still fell the burn in my arm._

___Oh god, I shouldn't. The arm should be gone. I turned my head to the side and there was nothing. Where's the burn coming from if not from my arm?_

___There was a scream, much louder than the general sound of pain. I realized it was me._

* * *

We stumbled into the backseat of the taxi, the other guy told him where we would go, but I was too busy kissing him to hear.

The taxi drove away, and we continued on making out. I put my hands underneath his shirt and pushed. He broke away, panting.

"Not here," he said, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Okay," I said, shrugged and removed my hands from his stomach. It was a very nice one. I leaned in to kiss him again, but he pulled away.

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked. I didn't have the brainpower to put together my usual scathing reply about stereotypes not being reality.

"No! Can't we just- Oh fuck," I said, noticing that the driver didn't seem to have control of his taxi and the tree in our path. I orbed out, and landed in the dewy and muddy grass.

I had never really mastered orbing fast, to me, it was an insurmountable obstacle.

"Great, just great," I muttered as the car burst into flames. "I'm ___not _getting laid tonight."

"So you're not the least bit sad about the deaths, Mikhail?" a voice behind me asked. I turned around slowly, hoping it wasn't who I thought it was. Of course, it was.

"Why... Why did you do that?" I asked the Source.

"You spied on me, today. Spied!" he yelled, making the flames on the car grow.

"Oh," I said. He looked at me. Yeah. This conversation was maybe not something you should have when you were drunk. "I just wanted to, to, uh, to free you. The witch makes you incapable of performing your duties, no, job, or, eh, duties, to the beast of your abilities. I just wanted to help you, my lord." As usual, I said 'my lord' sarcastically. As I found myself dunked into the grass, I realized that may not have been the brightest idea.

The legend about Russians and vodka is a big lie. Maybe it's because I'm tiny, but I get as drunk as the next guy, and then I can't stop myself from saying stupid things.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"No. You did, after all, do this with the best of intents at heart. How were you planning to free me from the boy's influence?"

"He's just a boy?" I asked, jokingly.

"You were perving on him!" the Source exclaims. "No, never mind." I looked at him, trying to come up with an answer. "Well, continue then!" he ordered, irate.

"Tell him about magic. It usually makes you a bit weak in the knees, this can't be true, and I figured you'd just exploit that weakness."

"That's a really bad plan, Mikhail. He already knows about magic, something that you would've known had you spent more time watching him."

"We might wanna go someplace that won't be filled with firemen in a few minutes," I said, sitting up.

There was a warm and nauseous feeling around me, and then we were sitting in one of the penthouses that the Source rented.

"I have an idea," the Source said, and I didn't like the smile on his face at all. It promised pain... for me.


	7. Blood and Sick

**AN: IMPORTANT. I have added a new prologue which explains the background a bit more, so this is not a new chapter. There will probably be a new chapter Monday.**

Blood and Sick

"I have an idea," He said. Mikhail's face was now even paler. "There has to be something there, to show the boy that his dreams are real, that they're not just constructs of his imagination. I have to do something that he'll remember, and then there has to be a trace of it for him to see. Are you following me?"

"Yes," Mikhail said. "You're not going to kill me, are you?"

"No, of course not, you're too valuable to me," He said, and Mikhail breathed a sigh of relief. "But that's just your mind, your body isn't much to hurray for, though."

"Oh."

"I'll do it tomorrow," He said. "You'll have time to think your fate through."

Mikhail orbed out.

* * *

"Bye, now!" I yelled after Joanie and Jamie after having left them at a friend of their's birthday party. I started walking home with a spring in my step, smiling.

Since Grandma felt that we needed more money just in case, mom was getting a job . After all, Jennifer is old enough to be left at home with Grandpa, isn't she?

Mom spent her days job-hunting. She'd been a cashier before the pregnancy and fire, and it wasn't as if she had any credentials besides a high-school diploma , so it had been tough and she hadn't found anything yet.

Grandpa watched Jennifer during the day since nobody else was home. Then I had to pick Jamie and Joanie up at daycare, and take care of the kids while Grandpa had a nap. It was the worst time of my life, but today was a Saturday and Jennifer was being taken care of by the rest of the family and Joanie and Jamie wasn't home.

Despite the worrying gray clouds, it was the best day I had had for a long time. It sure beat last Saturday.

I had spent the week trying not to think about the scorch mark, the dark alley or anything about my visit at Simon's. Unfortunately I had failed and instead o f the usual nightmares I remembered it.

Best Saturday ever, Ben, think of that.

After 20 minutes of walking, I was finally home. It had been a battle between me and the horror of murdering someone and I didn't win. Cole said that that was normal for a first kill, which made me wonder why I even looked at him for guidance, but a bit of googling told me he was right. Maybe he had also googled, but that was a very optimistic idea.

I unlocked the door, went inside, took off my outdoor clothing and walked to the kitchen. I was hungry, since I had overslept today and didn't have time to eat breakfast before I had to herd Joanie and Jamie to the party.

I made a sandwich, went to the living room, and sat down on the couch next to Dad, who was snoring while watching a show about Dinosaurs, and how they're really birds, because they had feathers. I'm still longing for the day when someone re-imagines Tyrannosaurs Rex, and he turns out to look like a peacock. A hot pink one.

"No eating in the living room, grandma has said. Don't you remember?" Mom asked worriedly as she appeared next to the couch. She was scared of Grandma, mad at her, and at the same time she wanted her approval.

"Well, I'm all finished now," I said, and swallowed what was left of the sandwich.

"What are you watching?"

"Something about Dinosaurs. It was on when I got here."

"Oh. We missed you at breakfast."

"I was really tired."

"Yeah, Ben, do you feel sick? Because you've been tired a lot lately."

"No, I'm fine. Do you want to sit down? You look tired too."

"I am," mom said, and sat down on the couch and put her feet on the coffee table .

"It's the mini banshee."

"Her name's Jennifer, and she's your little sister. We went through this with the twins, remember?"

"Yes," I said, nodding. I did remember being told that I was part of the family , but the twins needed more attention since they were younger."Is it Jennifer's fault that you're so tired?"

"Yeah," mom said, yawning. "But you were the same, so it's a baby thing."

We sat and watched TV in silence, the only noise dad's snores and the overvoice on the TV, telling about the feeding patterns of different Dinosaurs.

Sometimes I miss the time when it was just me, mom and dad. They were happy first time parents and gave me whatever the hell I wanted, and they were really adamant that I felt like a part of the family.

It was a good time.

* * *

Picking up the twins later on was a nightmare, since they didn't want to leave and all the other parents were judging. Jamie might usually be the voice of reason, but he has a very good aim and as a result, his kicks really hurt. Joanie was more into nail and teeth warfare.

In the end we managed to get home and for once the food didn't seem that bad.

I went to bed at the same time as the twins, they had tired me out and I still sometimes wish that they had never been born.

* * *

"You thought you could escape, didn't you?" He asked Mikhail, who was staring at Him with big eyes and a pale face.

He knew that Mikhail would try to run away, so Mikhail was allowed to do so. Then he spent an hour chasing him into an already prepared alley, because nothing was scarier than an alley from which you couldn't escape.

"Eh..."

"You don't have to worry, I won't ever l ose you."

"That's great," Mikhail said, clearly meaning the opposite.

He was happy about the fear He had put into Mikhail, it was good to know that even with the boy, though that wouldn't be much of a problem anymore, he was scary .

"It's not so bad. The pain, I mean."

* * *

I didn't wake up quickly, or anything like that, but I slowly drifted to consciousness, despite Him cutting of a hand and the stump bleeding. I mean, it was just my imagination getting more and more twisted, right?

Except it looked so real. How Mikhail's breath had quickened before the impending blow, how he had decided not to scream, as if that was going to work, and then he had and there was blood everywhere.

"Clean it up," He had said. Cleaning up your own blood after having your boss chop of your hand.

Thank god I'm hardened against these things, what with the violence and blood on TV. It looked real, but it wasn't. How many things couldn't you fake today? I thought about that, laying underneath my duvet looking up at the ceiling.

It's white, not like mom and dad's ceiling which was a bit yellow with cigarette smoke, since dad smoked so much. He shouldn't do it in their room, but, it was like he said: "Jennifer doesn't sleep in here anymore."

I'm getting better at thinking about other things, I noted to myself.

I reached after my phone, still looking at the ceiling, when I felt something sort of wet, but not really. A bit like drying blood.

I slowly turned my head to the side, and there was the chopped of hand. It was pale and streaked with red. My own hand had red smudges on it and it was shaking.

The hand wasn't real, it... It couldn't be real. I reached out and touched the hand again and oh fuck it felt real.

I wasn't going to puke on my bed, I told myself, but my eyes turned to the hand again.

"Earghhhhargh."

I wiped my mouth with my hand and saw that it was the one who had touched the.. . the thing. I had to wash, this couldn't be this way, with a hand and blood and sick and I had to wash it of before I-

"Earghhhhargh."

I... Surely magic could fix this. Just, put the hand back.

___Yes... It can. Now just relax, and I'll handle it. You don't have to worry about the hand, the blood or the sick. Just calm down._

I will. I took a deep breath, and felt better already. I didn't have to care, it was all being taken care of.

First, the blood and sick had to go. I flamed it to the garbage can. Then there was the matter of the bedside table and duvet. A spell would take care of that.

"___The bedside table is dirty_

___So is the duvet_

___Return them to_

___Mint condition._"

It did the job, but from a prose perspective it left something to be desired. Then there was the hand and mouth.

I'll just go clean it and not think about the hand, which was pale, bloody and there was sick all-

___Relax, I'm handling this, remember?_

Yeah. Yeah, I do. But there's noise coming from the bathroom and Jamie was sad before and I don't want him to kill himself.

___I'll take care of it._

Good.

I went to the bathroom to clean my hands and mouth. Believe it or not, I did care about the little bastard. And he was right, Jamie was there, throwing matches into the toilet. I went to the sink and turned on the faucet. Jamie could start the conversation.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Oh. I..."

There's a stomach bug going around.

___Thank you._

"I think I have a stomach bug."

"That's sad. Could you kiss Joanie and give it to her?"

"No. Why?"

"You don't need to know."

"Where is, uh..."

Joanie.

___I knew that._

"Joanie?"

"I don't like her. Do you?"

"No," I said. It felt like a safe answer . "Why are you destroying matches?"

"I just don't want Joanie to burn up my toys," he said, then he pushed me from the sink, and glared at the matches. He picked one up, and snapped it, with some effort.

"What has she done to you?" I asked.

"She's gotten a new friend," he said, sulking.

Then Jamie's eyes started tearing up.

"Know what you should do now that you no more can be with Joanie all the time?" I asked, smiling and acting like a big brother.

You're lousy at it.

"Be with you?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

"No. Be with mom, you'll love it."

"You suck," he said.

"Yes. Now go to bed."

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I looked good, and being in control of the body now after waiting for so long felt great. I was finally not dependent on the boy.

Then I remembered that I had waited such a long time to take control because my first attempt failed. This one should go better. It had to go better.

After all, I had Cole and Mikhail now.


	8. A Surprise and Meditation

**AN: One, sorry this chapter is so late and two, it's from the Source's POV so when Ben is talking/thinking it's in italics, and not the other way around. Review!**

A Surprise and Meditation

"Oh, I didn't think that you'd turn up for work today," I said in surprise when I entered the penthouse in San Francisco and saw Mikhail looking more like a starvation victim than usual.

"I was thinking you'd track me down," he said, slurring a bit.

_How is he even still alive?!_

He's a darklighter, he can survive anything. Why don't you relax and-

_No way! He needs his fucking hand so that he won't die of blood loss because you cut his hand of, you complete fucking jerk._

I'm in control right now, Ben, there's nothing you can do.

_I can _yell_. You don't know what the power of yelling is, do you? You have no idea of how it keeps you awake at night, and then all you want to do is scream and then give his hand the fuck back!_

Fine.

_I think I'm freaking out again._

That's okay, I'll take care of everything.

"What's bothering you?"

"Nothing. Why do you care?"

"I don't."

"Good. I'm going to go retrieve your hand and fix it for you."

"How kind of you."

I flamed back to the bedroom and grabbed the hand.

_Ugh._

Don't be so queasy, it's unbecoming.

_You'll take care of this, right?_

Yes.

When I returned, Mikhail looked just the same as he previously had but his expression had an undertone that I didn't like. Well, it wasn't as if he could kill me.

"Arm stump out, this will be done in no time," I told him and went to work. It took about two minutes.

"Thank you," Mikhail said and flexed his hand. "You have an appointment soon, so I suggest you change." He gestured at my clothes, and only then did I realize that I was wearing boxers and a T-shirt that was remarkably whole for it's age.

"Yes, I should. Who is it?" I asked.

"Oh, let me see," he said and made a show of looking at his papers. "Ariel. She's a Seer. Remarkable hips."

"A Seer?"

"Yes," he said, looking up from his papers. "Oh! You don't like Seers. I forgot, the pain and all, you know."

"I know," I said sympathetically and left Mikhail looking confused. I used a glamor to make it look as if I was wearing clothes, and sat down to wait for the Seer, fire ball in hand.

A woman wearing a bikini and see-through dress entered my office, crystal ball in the right hand.

"Hello, my Source," she said and bowed low, nearly dropping the crystal ball and blushing brightly.

"Hello, my Seer."

"Great, eh... I was hoping you would employ me as your new Seer, and to convince you to do that I thought that I'd show you one of your future victories."

"Go on," I said impatiently.

"Eh," she said, and took slow steps towards my desk. I put the books and papers on the desk on the floor with a sweep of my arm. She set down the crystal ball, put her hands on the sides of it and started humming.

"Look," the Seer said and I looked at the crystal ball.

It showed a street with apartment buildings on both sides during the evening. People were walking along and the cars were driving, when the vision started focusing on John and I who were walking side by side. We walked into an apartment building and up the stairs, talking. John then opened the door to apartment #4, and we walked inside. John bent down to remove his shoes and I shot him in the back with fire. Needless to say, John died.

_What? Hey, what's going on? You said that you'd take care if it, is this taking care? Is this what you're going to do?!_

No, it's not.

_You fucking killed him! How can you do that and just, act all calmly like _nothing's _wrong? Because there is a lot of things wrong with thi-_

Calm down, I know.

_Oh, you do?! Well why don't you kill the fucking bitch?!_

You have a point there, I agreed and looked at the Seer. But let us see what kind of excuses she has at first.

"Was this what you meant to show me?"

"Well yes, my Source. It was a victory of your greatest enemy, was it not?"

"I guess you could call it that."

"Ehhh... I'm _not _becoming your Seer then?"

"No, I don't think so," I told her and rose from my chair. She made a move to leave, but I held her where she was with my telekinesi. I cocked my fist, and hit her with all my strength. It was quite immense, so her rib-cage shattered.

_I didn't actually..._

I think it's a bit too late now, I told Ben and pulled my fist out of the Seer's body. She was looking at me with wide eyes and coughing up blood. She fell to the ground, gave a last, weak cough and flames rose from her body. She was dead.

I took the crystal ball from my desk where she had put it and put it on one of the shelves. It would make a good trophy.

I then threw the doors open.

"What the hell did you do that for?!" I yelled at Mikhail, who jumped out of his position as a self-satisfied secretary.

"Eh... You chopped my hand of, and she went here to see you. I don't see what the big deal is. Did she show you something you didn't like?"

"_She killed my best friend!_" Ben yelled.

I told you before, _I'm_ the one running the show.

_Not very well, _murderer.

"Are you okay? You sound weird."

"_Why did you even do it? _Why did I even agree?"

"An independent Source is better than a dependent Source."

"You're a lot more eloquent when you're not drunk."

"Are you going to be alright? You're not much use like this."

"The fucking boy is fighting back. _Of course._ But it'll be fine. _John is dead you-. _I'm going to fix this now."

* * *

Back in my bed, I slipped into a meditative state.

My head was a mess, I noted. Boxes that held each of the people I had been had been thrown around and not re-arranged. The boy was sitting in the middle of the mess with his head in his arms, shaking a bit.

"It was a vision. Are you really still upset?"

"Yeah," the boy said as if it was obvious his emotions would continue to hinder him far longer than necessary.

"Okay. Then I suppose you're not interested in becoming one?"

"Becoming one. What do you mean?" he asked, looking at me and wiping at his red eyes.

I took a few steps towards him. "To not have to fight for control, to have our interests unified into one goal."

"Really? So, you'll care for Joanie and Jamie and John and not killing people, while I will want to rule the world?"

"No. _We'll _care for Joanie and Jamie and John and killing people and rule the Underworld."

"We?"

"Yes," I said, and walked even closer.

"I... I don't know."

"What's to think about? You won't have any panic attacks anymore, you can stop learning about your powers from Cole because you'll already know everything. There is so much that you will gain and so little that you will lose."

"I... Okay then. How?"

"Take my hands," I said and held out my hands.

"Okay," the boy said in a disbelieving voice.

He grabbed my hands.

* * *

The wedding, his fiance, having a better life; it all ceased to matter. All that mattered was revenge, torturing those bastards until they couldn't do anything but writhe in agony for all the pain they had caused him.

* * *

I was so proud of myself when I managed to make my own, first friend. I had started the discussion, I had continued it, I had suggested what we do, I had done something!

* * *

Clawing my way to the top, seducing my way to the top, removing every hinder in my way just so that I could kill the Source of All Evil and end my suffering. Killing him was a wonderful feeling, his blood splattering me, his essence coming to me, giving me power. I would rule them, I would rule them all! They'd bow to me, and not I to them.

* * *

The apartment was on fire and he was stuck inside. He was crawling on the floor, like he had been told, the smoke still making him cry.

* * *

He was obsessed, a stalker. All he cared about was her; he could lie, sure, but not too himself. He couldn't hide it from himself.

* * *

I was in the wrong place and I didn't want it so I got upset and then I killed myself.

* * *

I woke to the sound of Joanie's wonderfully shrill voice yelling: "Where the hell are my matches?"

"I killed them," Jamie said sullenly.

This felt like home. Everybody yelling, nobody happy.

"You bastard!" Joanie yelled, even higher than before.

I smiled to myself, and then rolled out of bed. Sooner or later Jamie would start screaming too, and if there was one thing I knew about Jamie and Joanie it was that they yelled, a lot and loudly.

When I was inside their room, they were glaring at each other with balled fists at their sides and red faces.

"Hey, no need to fight," I said, trying to make them stop. It didn't work.

Joanie raised her fists, and I knew what she was gonna do. About three months ago Ben had taught Joanie how to hit, thinking it hilarious. Jamie didn't want to learn, but now I could see that he regretted it.

Then Joanie hit and Jamie fell to the ground.

"Hey, stop it!" I told them and separated them with telekinesi. "Very good."

They then looked at each other, and then at the same time started screaming, the very thing I had wanted to avoid. I dropped them so I wouldn't give in to the temptation of choking them.

As expected, grandma, grandpa, dad and mom all came hurrying.

"What's going on here?" grandma asked, looking at Jamie and Joanie's red faces, the bruise that was blooming on Jamie's face and the fact that they were four feet apart. "What did you do?" she asked me.

"Joanie punched Jimmie because he drowned her matches," I explained and they nodded, grandma annoyed, grandpa with a smile he was trying to hide, dad not bothering to hide his smile and mom just looking tired.

"It was a good punch," grandpa said to Joanie, then he picked Jimmie up, and deposited him on Joanie's bed, which was closest.

"Right, well, who taught her how to punch like that?" mom asked. She was a pacifist, I remembered.

"I though that it'd be fun, it's not my fault that she's so good at it," I said. Joanie smiled at the praise.

"She shouldn't hit her brother," grandma said, pursing her lips. Jamie sniffled.

"Mom, I think that it would be better if I handled this," dad told her. Grandma huffed and walked away. She'd be back in about three minutes when dad realized that he had bitten of more than he could chew.

"Ben, first, stop teaching your siblings how to fight, and two, leave."

"Sure dad."

"Thanks for teaching me how to get revenge," Joanie said.

"You're welcome," I told her, something that Jamie didn't like hearing so he went to tackle me, though I saw it coming and stepped out of the way. I looked down at Jamie and smiled, then left.

I walked down the stairs towards the kitchen and saw that it was raining outside. It was a usual day in Seattle, but for me it wasn't.

Today, I had full control of my powers and a body of my own. This coming week, I was going to get full control of the Underworld. This coming month, the Halliwells better look over their shoulder.


	9. Comforting Wine Bottles

**AN: Sorry this update is so late, I really have no excuses. Hopefully the next one will be sooner.**

**IMPORTANT! This is from Simon's POV.**

Comforting Wine Bottles

_I woke to the sound of beeping machines. I opened my eyes slowly, hoping that the Earth hadn't been invaded by space aliens while I was asleep._

_"Oh, good, you're okay." Dad sat next to my bed which was higher than it should be. He looked like he hadn't slept for a long time or like he had emptied a wine bottle._

_"Dad?" I said and my throat was really sore. It felt dry. My throat felt like my lips do around winter, all chapped. "What..." There was also a strange taste in my mouth, like puke but I hadn't been sick, had I? I was healthy. I hadn't puked for a long time._

_"What's wrong?" I whispered. My throat still felt chapped, and dad clapped me on the shoulder._

_"I'll go get the nurse, just stay calm. Nothing's wrong." Dad left to get the nurse._

_I didn't get it. Why was I in the hospital? What was the last thing that I had done? I bought that stuff from that guy and then I tasted it. It was weird, I remember. I closed my eyes and fell asleep before dad got back._

_"He's awake, that's a good sign. Ten years old and already an OD under his belt," I heard a voice say before everything went black and gone._

* * *

It was a Monday. Ben was in school on time. That doesn't really express the weirdness of the whole thing, but it was really weird, like really fucking weird.

"Congratulations, you're on time!" I said sarcastically.

"I know," he said simply.

I looked at Gina and she shrugged. She didn't know why he didn't do a victory dance or something either.

"Is this the first math class you're in time for this term?" John asked, frowning a bit.

"No. I've been on time three times previous."

John nodded, a slightly confused expression on his face.

"Oh, there's the teacher," I said. The teacher opened the door and we walked into the classroom. Hell was beginning, I thought, and then changed my mind when I saw the teacher swallow two painkillers. This lesson would be fun. I'd fail math of course, but fuck it if it wasn't worth it.

"So, what are we doing today?" I nearly yelled as we sat down. John looked a bit as if he wanted to cut out my tongue, but he didn't say anything.

* * *

"Why did you have to annoy the teacher so!" John complained. "I wanted to ask him things, didn't you ever think of that?"

"Like what?" I asked, and turned towards him. There was a half-crazed look in his eyes, and a bit of red on his face. "Look, calm down, it's not like you won't pass."

"Maybe this is too big of a dream for you, but I want to get an A. That requires a certain effort and understanding of mathematics, which I can't get if you scare the teacher away!"

"Calm down, John," Gina said.

"Yeah, John, it's not life and death."

John humphed and walked towards the men's bathroom at high speed. Come to think of it, I've never seen him run.

"Are you going to follow him?" Gina asked me and Ben.

"It's just performance anxiety," Ben said, then we looked at each other and burst out laughing. Gina joined in too.

"No, but, seriously, go check on him," she said after we had calmed down.

"I'm not doing it," Ben said.

"Neither am I. Why don't you do it?"

"It's the _men's_ bathroom," she explained.

"I've got a phone call, have to take it," Ben said with a shit-eating smile on his face. The fucker.

"I'll go then. You owe me a bag of frozen strawberries."

I walked towards the bathroom, opened the door and stepped in. In one of the stalls someone sounded like he had just run a marathon.

"John?"

"Leave" _hiccup _"me alone." _sniffle _"Please."

"Are you okay? Honestly, it's just math, it's not a big deal."

"Not a..." _deep breath, followed by another _"I need to calm down. It is a big deal. I need to do more than pass, I want an A, and I'm going to get one, but I can't without the teacher, so now you've destroyed my life!"

"That's a bit, eh, whatsit dramatic, isn't it?"

"No, it is not," John said and started sniffling.

"Let it all out?" I said, wondering if that was really the thing to say and leaned against the booth. Then I quickly realized how easy it would be for me to be slammed in the face and leaned against the sinks instead.

"Are you really that bad at this? Oh god, this is how bad I am at math!"

"No!" I protested. Please John, don't start crying again, I thought. Or was he still crying? Maybe he was a silent crier?

"What would you do if Ben was in this situation?" John asked, and he sounded pretty calm.

"Cart him over to Gina, who would tell him to suck it up, but I can't do that, because you're hiding in the men's bathroom and Gina's not a man. She doesn't have the necessary stuff."

"True," John said and hiccuped.

"Have you calmed down? Ready to go eat lunch?"

"Yes," John said, sniffing. He opened the door to his toilet and stepped out. His eyes were a bit red.

"It's totally impossible to see that you've cried," I told him.

"Shut up," John told me, smiling slightly.

Lunch was still weird though. John looked like he going to start crying at any minute the whole time, Gina just picked at her food and Ben had somehow managed to find someone who wanted to text him.

"Who's your new friend?" Gina asked Ben while she played with the peas she had on her plate.

"Just a friend," Ben replied with a quick and polite smile.

"Well, that conversation died out quickly," John muttered and then left. Gina did soon too. It was just me and Ben left, and for once it wasn't like the good old times when it was just the two of us, but it was like a new time where he didn't want to talk to me.

* * *

When I got home, I found dad sitting on the couch, a bottle of wine on the table in front of him.

"What happened?" I asked, and hoped that I wouldn't have to comfort him. One comforting was enough for at least this year, but the wine bottle probably meant that I would have to.

"You know the girl I was seeing?"

"Yeah? She hasn't broken up with you or something, right?"

"No."

"That's good. I like her. She's nice."

"She's dead. Murdered. Same murderer that did that thing we saw on the news yesterday?"

"That was gruesome," I said, remembering the fact that the face, hands and feet had been cut off from the rest of the body. "And... It's really sad."

"The funeral is in three days. Closed casket."

"That's really sad. Should I go buy some more wine?"

"Nah, we've got ten bottles," dad replied, and drank what was left of the bottle in front of him, which was about half.

"I'll get another, then," I told him, did just that, and then left him there. I felt a bit guilty about it but he had a bottle of wine. Wine gave you nice warm feelings, and that was just what he needed.

When I sat down on the bed in my room I realized that that was what I also wanted. There was no way I was getting any of the wine, dad would want it all for himself. He deserved it more, I should let him have all of the bottles.

Maybe I didn't like dad's ex-because-she's-dead very much, but I was never seeing her again and she had her good moments. She always brought me Snickers and wore really low-cut shirts.

I took my phone out of my pocket and pulled up the contact list. I should talk to someone. Maybe that will make me feel warm and full and not as sad. Ben was good at this stuff, wasn't he? Was he? Really? Well, maybe. It didn't hurt to try, even if it was probably so that he sucked at it.

I called him. There was no reply, so I called him again. Still no reply. Well, he had been acting weird all day, maybe he didn't want to talk to me, the fucker.

I called Gina instead. She owed me one, and the bag of frozen strawberries.

"Gina," she answered.

"Hey, it's me."

"Simon?"

"Yes."

"Why are you calling?"

"You know those murders, right? Dad's girlfriend is one of the victims."

"There's murders? Whatever," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks. Should I be sad? I mean, sadder?"

"Well, if you liked her and you're never going to meet her again because she's dead, I guess that the natural response is sadness, but if you didn't... I mean, you don't have to be sad." Despite the subject and the fact that as far as I know she hasn't been to a funeral the last year she still sounded like she knew exactly what she was talking about.

"I guess," I said, not really sure of anything. Why did I call her again? To feel warm and nice and stuff. "What, ehmm... You didn't know about the murders?"

"No, I don't watch the news or check them. You'll find out anything important by everybody else, anyway. I didn't think you'd be the type to watch the news."

"The type to watch the news? There is no type for that. I just watch 'em. They're on before I go to bed. It's convenient."

"You have a set bed time? I'm learning so much right now."

"Blackmail?" I asked, and lay down on my bed. I felt warm again.

"No, just friend things." There was a pause. "Hey, I have to go. It's dinner time. If you want to we can talk more later on?"

"No, I think I'm fine. Unless you want to talk?"

"No, I have stuff to do. See you tomorrow."

"See you. Wait!" I yelled, hoping she hadn't ended the call yet.

"You wanted to talk?"

"No, it's just... Was it just me or was Ben behaving really weirdly today?"

"Yeah, he was. Oddly polite and on time. It's not a bad change."

"No, we just loose some prime time entertainment."

"Hah, true," Gina laughed. "Bye."

The call ended, and then I lay there on my bed with a phone in my hand and still feeling sad. Gina was nice to talk to, but... She wasn't Ben. I still felt sad.

* * *

I brushed my teeth and went to the living room and sat down in front of the TV. Dad was sitting next to me, well, sitting was too generous. He was slumped on the couch with a half-empty wine bottle that had dripped on his T-shirt. He was snoring. I took a deep breath.

I reached for the remote and put on the TV. It was time to watch the news.

It went alright. I mean, nothing weird. I had been expecting to see something about Dad's ex, but she was only mentioned in the end as the latest victim of the serial killer currently touring Seattle. They also talked a bit about similar murders in other parts of the world, which they had done yesterday as well.

I left dad on the couch and went to bed. I tried calling Ben again but he still didn't answer. God, I hated him. I talked to him when his house burned down. He stayed over forever, and now he can't even pick up the phone.

**AN: Tell me what you think! Was this chapter boring? Was it good even though it's basically a pause from the plot? Any review is greatly appreciated.**


	10. Mother of Three

**AN: IMPORTANT! This is Phoebe's POV.**

**Thanks to christian77611 for following.**

Mother of Three

"_What happened to you?" I asked Piper after she, the kids and Leo orbed into our condo's living room, in which Coop and I were sitting watching TV._

"_The Manor blew up," Leo informed us while Piper wiped the tears of Melinda's face._

"_Was it the gas?" Coop asked, and we both really hoped that it was. Not the Source who was, at last, coming to get us, but something regular, something normal._

"_No, it was not the gas!" Piper yelled and patted Melinda's head and then grasped Wyatt's hand._

"_It was the Source," Chris said, reminding me a bit too much of future-Chris. Leo patted Chris on the shoulder, worried._

"_What about the Source?" I asked._

"_We think he was the one behind it," Leo said._

"_We should go after him," Wyatt said._

"_No! You are not going after him. We need to plan. The Source is a serious threat."_

"_Yeah, Wyatt, he is. He may look like a regular sleep-deprived teen but he's not. He's got millenniums of experience," I said._

"_Phoebe," Coop said and I heard my alarm clock ring. Didn't I turn it off this morning?_

"_Phoebe," Coop said and started shaking me._

"_MOM!" PJ called. Had the Source attacked her too?_

I sleepily reached out with my arm in the general direction of the nightstand and grabbed my phone. I opened my eyes and shut the alarm off, then I sat up.

"Thanks!" PJ called from her bedroom, her voice bearing through the walls and not sounding the least bit grateful. I turned towards Coop, who, annoyingly, was a morning person.

"She has a sleep-in today," he explained.

"Oh. Right," I said, remembering how she'd informed us of this fact last week and yesterday every time she had the chance.

Coop got of the bed and I admired his backside as he began digging through the wardrobe for clothes.

"I had a kind of scary dream," I said and laid back down. Talking always helped me awake in a way that sitting up didn't.

"Kind of?"

"Yeah, I mean, the Manor had been blown up and Melinda was crying, which is a bit weird since a demon has to be really stupid nowadays to go after us."

"Mhmm," Coop said, having picked out a pair of beige slacks and was now looking through shirts. He took out a mahogany one and held it up. I shook my head.

"But it was scary, you know, because it was so realistic. Everyone was like they actually are and not dream-versions."

"This one, then?" Coop asked and held a white shirt in front of him.

"Yeah, and the pastel pink pullover. Maybe you should have a striped shirt?"

"That's a good idea."

"The Source was mentioned too," I said as I put my feet on the carpet next to my side of the bed. "I'm going to make some breakfast, and wake Parker and Penny," I said and walked towards the door.

"It will be fine," Coop said and kissed me. I smiled at him.

We were so in tune with each other. He knew if I was worried about something, like the Source, and I... Well, I haven't got a good example right now, but we were perfect for each other. We worked in a way that Cole and I hadn't.

* * *

As a mom, there is nothing better than to go to work and be able to not think about your children anymore, not thinking about your actually pretty normal life. You can spend your time leading other people to the happiness that you have, that you should feel every waking moment of your life. Truth is, I'm not the most happy at home. Instead I love it when Coop and I bring a couple together, or I do an interview for the Bay Mirror. It's exciting, for a given level of excitement.

I walked past Sophie and into my office. It was a new day, new letters to be answered. I sat down behind my desk, placed the cup of coffee on it and turned on my computer.

What about the Source, I thought. There was nothing about him, there shouldn't be since he was dead. We had killed him, a long time ago. I still, sometimes, wondered what would have happened had my son survived. Would he be the perfect demon or had the Seer failed in her spell work, making him a regular witch? Why am I even thinking about this? I smiled to myself. There was nothing to worry about.

"Coop sent something?" Sophie asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. She handed me a green manila folder. "It's for the meeting later this afternoon."

"Thanks, and no, Coop hasn't sent me anything." Sophie turned to leave. "Hey, before you go..."

"Yes?"

"Has there been some strange killings lately, or something?"

"There has been, actually, now that you say it. In Seattle."

"Oh," I said. "Thanks."

Sophie left, leaving me to think things through by myself. There wasn't much to think of, was there, I thought to myself as I opened my Ask Phoebe mail account. It could be another demon, it didn't have to be the Source. It could even be a regular person.

I worked for about ten minutes before curiosity got to me and I checked the Seattle Times.

_**Fourth Victim of the Seattle Butcher Found**_

_**At 3 am this afternoon the dismembered body of Jenna Malone was found underneath the I – 5 by the Lake Washington Ship Canal. She is the latest victim of the serial killer currently terrorizing Seattle.**_

_Ms. Malone, 33, worked as a Lunch Lady at John Stanford International School. At 12.30 pm she went out for her post-lunch smoke, and never returned. It is believed by the SPD that she was then abducted and relieved of her face, hands and feet by the murderer. The murder weapon was a knife with a double edged blade, which is an unusual murder weapon as that kind of knife is commonly used for throwing, stabbing and piercing, and not, as in this and the rest of this murderer's cases, severing of limbs. The severing was done while Ms. Malone's heart was still beating, as indicated by the massive blood loss. Despite the massive blood loss, not a lot of blood was found at the scene._

_The body was found by August Jenkins, 82, who was out on her afternoon stroll. She called the police directly after, and they received the call at 2.54 pm. They responded immediately. Ms. Malone was killed around 13.30 pm, give or take an hour._

"_She was killed not long before I found her. It could have been me," a clearly shaken August Jenkins reported._

"_We're doing everything we can to catch this murderer. Unfortunately, there is no connections that we can find between the victims, so all we can do is be on the look out," said the Chief of SPD. The victims' age, gender, social class, sexual orientation and ethnicity has varied. There has been three victims previously. The first was Juan Gonzales, an illegal immigrant from Mexico in his best years and who was taken on his way home from work in White Center. The second was Nina McDougall, three years old and grabbed while playing on a playground in North East Seattle. The third was Marion Crane, 23, a transsexual homosexual and a big opponent of cannabis legalization, something that Ms. Malone was a big advocate of._

"_There has been previous murders like this in history," said Prof. Tran at SU. "In the eighties there was killings spread over Indiana and in the fifties there was a serial killer loose in Topeka, KS. It's not just in the US, either, or in the twentieth century. There is records of similar murders in Feudal Japan and Victorian London." Despite the large amount of history, police has always come to the conclusion that it's killing for fun and not for any other purpose. The police has also never been able to make a connection between the victims._

"_I just hope that they solve this soon," Janet Simpson, a mother of three and Ms. Malone's neighbor, said. "You never know when the murderer's going to strike next time. Jenna didn't deserve to die like this. She had just met someone," Ms. Simpson reported._

"_We are doing everything we can," Chief of SPD reassures the Seattle populace._

I slumped against the back of my chair. Several victims, in all parts of the world and history and the victims clearly killed with an athame. It could be the Source. Maybe I should call Paige. I reached for my phone, and then I realized that I could talk to her at dinner later today. Besides, who knew where she was? The phone bill would skyrocket.

Again, I added, remembering the time that my daughters had called Billie to tell them a bedtime story while Billie was vacationing in Australia.

* * *

Magic School was bustling with life when I stepped through the magically appearing door in our condo and into the Pick Up Hall. Parents were arguing with the children, the parents were arguing with each other, the students were complaining about being students and the teachers were trying to get to the teacher's lounge so they could pack up their belongings and leave.

I started my usual routine by going to the classroom belonging to grade 5 to pick up PJ. She had lately stopped appearing at our meeting spot when I was going to pick them up which made the afternoon a bother it hadn't been before. Hopefully she wouldn't get the nickname Freebie and this was the only rebellion she was going to do. Well, I can always dream.

On the way there I bumped shoulders with quite a lot of people until I got to a quiet and people free zone.

"Dad, when are we going to be old enough to go on vanquishes?" Chris asked, his voice coming from the classroom to my right. It was one of the classrooms that didn't belong to a specific class, but was just a classroom.

"Yeah, why can't we? We're the best, or nearly, in all of our classes. We're powerful. Why not?" Wyatt asked.

This had been an issue a long time. We, the parents, had brought it to rest some time ago when Billie told about her first experiences and the age she was then.

"It's a no. You haven't got any experience," Leo said.

I felt like a bit of an intruder listening on this, but... We Halliwells were a family. This concerned me too, especially if Wyatt and Chris decided to drag PJ into this as well.

"What about Aaron, then? He didn't have any experience but he was still attacked and now he's in the hospital because whitelighters can't heal half-demons. Preventative measures, dad."

"Wyatt, it's a good point and I understand that you want to avenge him-"

"Dad, that's not what this is about," Chris protested. "We can help. Why won't you let us?"

"I care about you and I don't want you to die."

"We aren't going to die!" Wyatt yelled.

This sounded like it was getting heated. I checked the time. Shame, I couldn't stay and listen. I had to pick up the girls and help them with their homework before dinner at the Manor.

* * *

After dinner, which had consisted of Wyatt and Chris trying to surreptitiously bring up the topic of demon fighting while us adults had tried to talk about anything else, Coop and I were in the kitchen on clean-up duty. Henry was now taking care of the kids and Piper and Leo was having a Conversation with Wyatt and Chris. Coop and I were discussing what to do on our weekly Sunday afternoon date. I thought we should go to the movies, but, as usual, Coop thought we should just eat dinner out. It was an argument that we had had for a long time.

"One, we had dinner last week and two, there's a new romantic comedy and remember the last time we went to see one? It was a lot of fun, you admitted it when we walked out."

"Yes, but we actually have the chance to talk to each other when we go out to dinner."

"Hey, am I interrupting something?" Paige asked, standing in the kitchen doorway."

"No, of course not," I said.

"But we missed you at dinner," Coop remarked. "Where were you?"

"I was talking to the Elders. One of the really annoying downsides to being a full-time whitelighter, you can't just ignore them," Paige shrugged and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. "Anyway, what they wanted to talk to me about is worth, at least, to look into. Where's Piper?"

"She and Leo are talking to Wyatt and Chris, I don't really know about what," Coop said, and went back to filling the dishwasher.

"Oh, it's just the good ole argument about hunting demons. Wyatt called it 'preventative measures'," I told her, Coop paused in stocking the dishwasher and looked at me. "I overheard Leo and Wyatt and Chris talking when I was picking up PJ, Parker and Penny at Magic School."

"I'll go and get Piper. There's still some food left, it's in the fridge," Coop told Paige. Coop left the kitchen and Paige started taking food out of the fridge.

"So," I said. "What's up?"

"There's a thing in Seattle. It's pretty important, the Elders want us to look into it," Paige said, putting a plate with spaghetti into the microwave. It had taken about a week of fighting for Leo to get one, since Piper thought you should heat food on the stove. She may have a point, but it's a bit much to demand that her children should do that.

"Yeah, I read about it," I told her. The conversation stopped there as we both waited for Piper to show up. I didn't want to mention the dream to her. The dream didn't have to be true, did it? And if it was the Source that was behind this and not some random demon, we'd figure it out along the way. I had wanted to tell her before, but, it wasn't really Paige's business and she got obsessive about the Source.

Piper was now approaching, her shoes clicking against the floor. She turned up in the kitchen doorway, her mouth a thin line. She tried for a smile and it looked like it hurt. She then turned to me. "Oh, honey. What have I told you about rinsing the plates before putting them in the dishwasher?"

"That I should do it, but, Piper, I'm gonna turn this on in about five minutes. The food won't have a chance to dry."

"I should save my energy for Wyatt and Chris," Piper decided after a minute of silence. Preventative measures, sometimes I wonder what they teach at Magic School."

"Okay, what's up is that there are ritualistic murders being committed in Seattle and the Elders are pretty worried about it. Usually these murders are indicative of someone going after witches, powerful witches, and succeeding. They thought that we should look into it, and they're really worried. They managed to come to a decision about what to do quickly, for them at least," Paige told us, putting her plate of heated spaghetti on the kitchen island.

"I read about this," I said. "The victims are abducted and then their head, feet and hands are cut off by an athame. The police hasn't been able to figure out a pattern in how they choose the victims, so the whole of Seattle seems to be upset."

"Can't someone else look into it?" Piper asked.

"No, apparently not," Paige said. "This has in the past led to serious things happening, so I, for once, agree with the Elders. We should look into it."

"Yeah, it'd be like old times," I said, and, having put in the last plate in the dishwasher, turned it on.

"Except we have kids now," Piper pointed out.

"I don't see what we're discussing. It's just looking into a couple of murders," I said and shrugged. I could feel that Piper was alternating between worry and anger. She was still upset about Wyatt and Chris and she had a big heart so she was understandably worried about Seattle's citizens.

"Whoever is doing this might go after us," Paige said calmly, but I knew that she was worried and really wanted to do this.

"I vote that we do it," I said.

"Yeah, me too," Paige said.

"Well, guess I have no choice," Piper said, but I knew that this was what she, deep, deep inside, actually wanted. I wasn't the only one missing the adrenaline you got from fighting demons.

**AN: So, longest chapter yet. It introduces the Charmed Ones. No idea if anyone's been waiting for them, but this means the speed of the story is picking up and that the Ben-becomes-the-Source arc is finished. Tell me what you thought of the chapter, or thinks of the story, in a review!**


	11. Damage Control

**AN: Ben's first chapter since he became the Source.**

Damage Control

I was in the kitchen making a sandwich since I had felt 'ill' at dinner and had to go to the bathroom to throw up. In actuality there had been a meeting with a demonic Leader, but it wasn't as if I could say that to my family.

"Ben, is there something you want to tell me? You've been away a lot and you're usually late in picking up the twins. Have you met someone?" Mom asked me, doing the dishes. We didn't have a functioning dishwasher at the moment, and we (that is, the rational part of the household) didn't know who had broken it. The two prime suspects were Grandpa and Joanie.

"No, I haven't met someone mom. I guess I just have better things to do than babysit the twins and Jennifer."

"Oh, okay. You know, even if the person you've met is a boy, I'm fine with it."

"It's not a boy. I've just spent more time with my friends," I told her, which was a blatant lie.

"That's nice. It's good to know that you have people you like and trust," she said, nodding. I nodded as well and then went to my room to eat my sandwich.

I thought about what mom had said, that I had people I liked and trusted.

Despite my initial assessment that Cole would help me in my campaign to have the Underworld kneel for me, the assessment had proved to be faulty. If there was one thing in the world that Cole hated more than anything else, such as traffic jams or aquariums, it was me. So I had Mikhail. Who was a great help and he was truly invaluable, unfortunately none of the Leaders respected him because of their snobbery. No one likes a darklighter. And no one, especially, likes a darklighter who started out as a human, became a whitelighter and then a darklighter. The darklighters didn't like him either.

But it would be fine. I could, with the help of my charm and some assassinations, get at least the majority of the Leaders on my side and then be able to kill the rest of them. It was sad that my new reign in the Underworld would start with a small civil war, but there wasn't much I could do to stop it.

Another thing I couldn't stop was Simon's rants. He was extremely angry at me for not picking up the phone when he called and wanted comfort, I guess. It wasn't my fault that I assumed it was about something I wouldn't give a shit about. It usually was when he called that time of the day. He didn't like me telling him that, but I didn't like him being mad at me, so we were even.

Mom was worried about me. I didn't really get why, seeing as I was now practically guaranteed an E in English. The teacher didn't feel that she could give me more, even though my paper on Shakespeare and his plays was amazing. It did help that I in a previous life had had a raging hard-on for him.

I had people I liked and trusted. Yeah, no.

But it was just Wednesday. I had only been whole for a couple of days. Life would be much better later on, when I had the Underworld and I finally could get back to destroying Good.

This was a lot easier back when I had a Seer.

* * *

My phone rang as I rode the elevator up to my San Francisco penthouse on Thursday afternoon. I checked the display and it was Mikhail calling. Well, he was probably in the penthouse, so I didn't bother to answer.

The elevator doors opened and I was greeted with the sight of Mikhail punching the wall. "That seems a very smart course of action," I told him.

"Oh, thank god," Mikhail said when he heard me. He turned to face me and shook his hand, as if that would remove the pain. "We seem to have a bit of an issue that we weren't really prepared for."

"What, is Gunther attacking?" I asked. Gunther was the Leader of a group of demons who lived underneath Germany. He had quite a lot of demons backing him since there was so many living there. He wasn't that fond of me either, nor was he scared. He was young, which might excuse some of his stupidity. That said, he was dangerous.

"No no, it's worse. The Halliwells are going to Seattle thanks to those murders. What if they find out about you? Worse, what if they find out about Cole? Ouch," he said and looked at his hand critically.

"Well, that's not good news." I sat down on the couch. "Why isn't they finding out about me the worst thing?"

"Because one, we can pretend you're just a normal witch. Two, if they find out about the demonic part of your parentage we can say he was a real bastard and you want him dead except you want to be good so you don't actually want him dead. Three, if they find out you're Phoebe's thought-to-be-dead son, well, look cute or something. Four, if they find out about you being the Source talk a lot about number three and lousy parents."

"Oh, right, I'm... I now know who my parents are," I said. It was still a shock to me. I was adopted, and like every adopted kid I had thought about my bio-parents. Who were they and why did they abandon me was what I usually thought about. Turns out, dad didn't know and mom was scared I would turn out to be the Source. She was right, but I was mad at her. I mean, who does that to a newborn baby? I wouldn't. But I guess the whole thing said a lot more about the hypocrisy of the good side. "I'll keep an eye on them Mikhail, you don't have to worry. Your pretty little head doesn't need to be filled with thoughts."

"Of course it doesn't," Mikhail said sarcastically.

When he left, one hour later, I told him that I was just kidding.

* * *

It was Friday and the Charmed Ones had gotten to San Francisco. It had been three days since they reportedly found out about it, but I guess they moved pretty fast for middle aged moms with kids to look after.

"Hello!" I called. I was in the warehouse where the Charmed Ones were. It was empty since it was Friday evening and even if this was a used warehouse, it was still well past working hours. I was actually pretty grateful that the Charmed Ones had families, since I had one as well and there was a limit to how much time I could spend sick or hiding in my bedroom. They had also now found out about how mad my friends were at me. It was one unanswered phone call. Yes, my excuse was thin, yes, it had only been three days, but we had for fuck's sake been friends for years. Why is it such a big deal?

Hey, you have to get back on track, I told myself. The Charmed Ones were here. Mikhail and I had come to the conclusion that the best way to keep an eye on them was to get involved, with me playing the role of a regular witch. Not that powerful, doesn't know that much but living in Seattle.

"I know you're here!" I called, and then felt like hitting myself with a baseball bat. No, that didn't sound creepy at all, it's just what bad guys always say when they're chasing their prey. "Not that I'm a demon or anything, I just, uh, scryed today for you! I'm not a stalker, but I've been really worried about these murders. You never know where he's going to hit next!" I walked along the rows of shelves, my steps echoing. They could've orbed out, but hopefully they hadn't and I wouldn't have to scry for them again.

I had walked the entire length of the aisle when the sight of a dismembered body belonging to a baby and the Charmed Ones standing behind it, hostile, facing me, greeted me. I felt vaguely sick, but it would all be alright. It would have to be. Why would the dismembered body of a baby horrify and disgust me? How many times hadn't I done this myself?

"Eh," I said. My stomach was now cartwheeling. "I think I have to go somewhere and puke. Please don't run away, I just want to help. This is my city, and all." I hurried behind the nearest shelf, ripped opened a box and puked. There went my dinner. It actually looked a lot more appetizing now than it had when I ate it. I wiped my mouth and then I walked back to the Charmed Ones.

"Aren't you a bit young to be doing this?" Piper asked. Her long brown hair was in a ponytail and she was frowning.

"What does your whitelighter think about this?" Paige asked, her hands on her hips.

"This was my whitelighter's idea, actually. He thought that I should get some experience. And this whole thing is scary," I said, not looking at the ground.

"Could I talk to your whitelighter?" Paige asked.

"Yeah, this isn't something I'd want my sons to be doing, and they have experience," Piper added.

"Of course," I said, cursing the fact that I didn't think about needing a whitelighter before. "I'll call him." I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket.

"You use your phone to talk to him?" Phoebe asked. This was the first time that she said something and I tried not to let my emotions show. I loved her like crazy, which I shouldn't since she was my mom and had abandoned me.

"Yeah," I said, proud that my voice didn't waver. I looked through my list of contacts. There wasn't many people I liked and trusted. I thought about Cole briefly, then I realized what a stupid idea it was and that I should probably tell him about the Charmed Ones being in town. I made mental not to. My thumb hovered over Mikhail's name. He had had a lot of ideas about what to do about the Charmed Ones. On the other hand he was a darklighter. I clicked his name, he was after all the only person I trusted to play my whitelighter.

"My Lord," Mikhail answered.

"Hey, whitelighter. You know how you told me I should help the Charmed Ones with the murders? Yeah, they don't trust me and wants to talk with you."

"What?!"

"Great, I'll hand you over," I said and handed the phone to Paige. Hopefully Mikhail knew how to lie when he was sober. He was awful at it when he was drunk.

Paige talked with Mikhail in a low tone. Piper stood next to her and occasionally talked on the phone as well. Phoebe decided to talk to me instead.

"You're very anxious," she said to me.

"Yeah," I nodded, remembering that Phoebe was an empath. As long as I didn't exhibit typical demonic emotions, such as anger and pleasure at other's pain, it would be fine. I had tricked empaths before. "I mean, you're pretty legendary."

"Yeah we are," she said, pleased. "But we don't bite." Polite laughter. "What's your name?"

"Ben," I said and tried to not seem the least bit hostile, but honestly, she was my mom, she should know my name. I loved her, she should care about me.

"I'm Phoebe, it's nice meeting you," she said and we shook hands.

Paige and Piper were now finished interrogating Mikhail so they walked over to us and handed me my phone back.

"Okay, this is what we decided," Paige said. "You can help us when we're in Seattle, because this is where you live and you know the city better than us, but we're not taking you back to San Francisco. You're a kid, and while this is a good experience for you, we don't want you to die."

"Yeah, okay. I just want to help," I said.

We then spent an hour talking about what had happened, thankfully at a cafe and not in the warehouse. I explained to them about the ritual, because the faster this was done the better it was for everybody.

* * *

"Hello," I said and smiled charmingly at Cole's secretary. Despite the meek appearance the secretary possessed she would be very useful in the ritual. She had a lot of spiritual power. "My name is Benjamin Jones and I'm here to see Mr. Turner. It's very important. Could I see him now?"

"Well, I... He doesn't have any meetings, so it's probably okay. I'll go check," she said, walked over to the door leading to Cole's office and walked inside. I was in the room outside of Cole's office on the third floor. He worked in a modern building with a steel frame and the outer walls were made of glass. The inner walls were made of light wood. The place didn't agree with my Underworld sensibilities or the teen ones. Glass walls seemed like a big invasion of privacy.

I was here since Cole worked on Saturdays and I had to inform him about the Charmed Ones, because us running into him accidentally would spell trouble for me, for Cole, for Phoebe, for Paige and for Piper. Everybody, actually. Cole and I would be in the deepest shit, but no one would be happy.

The secretary opened the door and said: "Mr Turner doesn't want to see you."

"Could you tell him it's about his ex?" I asked in the most charming way possible. In a previous life I had thought a lot about becoming an empath since things such as these would be a lot easier, but then I realized that my goal to destroy Good wouldn't work well with empathizing with the Good side. I might feel bad about killing them, for example.

"Okay," she said and went inside Cole's office to tell Cole that. She appeared one second later. "Mr. Turner wants to see you now."

"Thanks," I told her and walked inside Cole's office. He was leaning on his desk, his arms crossed and scowling. Cole hated my guts.

"What do you want? And what are you wearing?" Cole asked.

"Well, I actually just want to help you. No hidden motives. And I'm wearing a glamor. No one takes a 15 year old seriously."

"Should have thought of that before you possessed him."

"I'm not possessed Cole. I just don't freak out about murder as much as I used to. Anyway, the Charmed Ones are investigating the murders here. I thought you should know. I'm keeping an eye on them, and I figured I'd text you when they're here so you know to hide."

"Why do you think that I would want to hide?" Cole asked, but he didn't scowl as much. He wasn't smiling either, but he appeared to be approaching a neutral territory.

"Because Phoebe is your ex-wife and she doesn't know you're alive. That and I don't want you to tell them about me. I'm sure you remember that there are places that not even your guardian angel can get to," I reminded him.

"The Torture Dungeons, I think you said." Cole let his hands fall to the sides. "Yes, I would like to know when they are here."

"Good. That means fewer things for me to worry about. Not that Seattle is a small city, but you never know where he's going to strike next. He might even kill your secretary." I shrugged.

"Is that a threat?" Cole asked, crossing his arms again.

"What? Oh no, she's just a perfect candidate for the ritual. Can I get your phone number?"

"Yes, of course," Cole said. If I were an empath, I'm sure I would be able t feel waves of distrust coming form Cole.

When I was finished with Cole, I went to the bathroom on the first floor (Cole's office was on the second floor) and let the astral projection drop. I found myself facing the tiled floor of the bathroom.

**AN: Ben remembers his bio-family now, but his version of what happened in the cave is skewed. **

**Please tell me what you think. It'd be nice to know if what I'm writing is good, bad or boring.**


	12. The Oldies

**AN: IMPORTANT! Piper's POV.**

The Oldies

Paige orbed Phoebe and I into the hall in the deserted Manor. The kids and Leo were at a movie night in Phoebe and Coop's condo, where Mel was definitely eating too much candy for her own good.

As it was autumn and evening the Manor was dark. I turned on the lights in the hall. I turned back towards Paige and Phoebe and we just stood there for a while. What were you supposed to say? We just saw the reason we have for not fighting demons actively anymore? We just saw the reason we _should_ fight demons?

"Do you want anything?" I asked. There was no point in going to the attic to leaf through the Book; nothing of what Ben had told us had we found in the Book when we researched. This was just a time for us to calm down, maybe eat something and discuss what to do next. And be awkward.

"I'd like a cup of coffee," Phoebe said.

"Paige?" I asked and walked briskly towards the kitchen.

"Can't drink coffee this late without staying awake the whole night," she said, "but if you have some cookies or something that would be nice."

"I do." I took the jar of coffee powder from the bench, put the requisite amount of tablespoons coffee powder into the filter, closed it and poured water into the tank. "Chris baked some peanut and chocolate chip cookies when he got home from school yesterday." I flipped the switch and the red light turned on. "A double batch, so there's still some left. He even cleaned up after himself."

"That's nice," Phoebe said with a laugh. "Whenever my daughters cook something there's used bowls and whisks and cake mixture everywhere."

"Hey, do you want coffee?" Paige asked me. She had taken out a tray and was now grabbing cups from the cupboard.

"No, I can't sleep then either," I told her and put a plate of cookies on the tray. Paige put down a cup.

"I feel bad just standing here," Phoebe said. "Don't you want anything to drink?"

"Milk would be nice," I said and Paige nodded her consent. Phoebe put a milk carton on the tray along with two glasses. The coffee was then done and I poured a cup. Paige grabbed the tray and carried it to the living room, where we sat down around the coffee table and looked anywhere but each other. The courtesies had saved us from conversation, but now we had to talk about what had happened tonight. We had been too slow to stop the fifth murder, or, a ritual designed to make your powers stronger. Whoever had done this must be completely soulless.

"I know you're both upset," Phoebe said, taking a gulp of coffee. "I am too."

"Me as well. We didn't have time before, but now... A baby." Paige shook her head. "This is what we're supposed to prevent, why didn't we do something?"

"We put ourselves first," I said heavily. I grabbed a cookie and took a bite. The air was thick. We put ourselves and our kids first. We wanted to see them grow up and we wanted to grow old together with our husbands. Sure, demons attacked often enough that there was no idea in giving our kids new phones, but there was never a big threat that needed vanquishing. Now there was, and we were rusty. What do you say in a situation like this?

I don't know what to say.

"Hey, what did you think of Ben?" Phoebe asked. "I know we figured he'd be helpful to have around, but didn't he remind you of someone?"

"He did. I don't like him," Paige said.

"Maybe he reminds you of someone you dislike," Phoebe suggested.

"He probably does. And he seemed, I don't know what to say," Paige said.

"It felt like he was insulting us when he told us what kind of ritual it was and how it was performed. Like he thought it was common knowledge, or something," I said.

"His whitelighter had his head on straight, though," Paige said. "I mean, I wouldn't want him near my kids, but he did care about Ben. Maybe something's wrong with him. With Ben."

"Whoever he reminds you of must be someone you really hate," Phoebe said, sounding slightly shocked. I felt the same way. I didn't like Mikhail, but just because he had a few screws loose did not mean that Ben did too.

"Guess his smugness got to me," Paige said and shrugged.

"He wasn't smug, exactly. More like he thought we were bad at what we did," Phoebe said.

"I don't blame him. We could have saved the baby," I said.

"I think that, if we were supposed to, I would have gotten a vision," Phoebe said.

"What's done is done," Paige said. "I think we should spend tomorrow researching. I'll talk to the Elders, you can look at Magic School.

They left me with the remnants of our snack. Phoebe's coffee cup was half full and neither Paige nor I had poured a glass of milk. I had eaten a cookie, but the rest of them were left.

* * *

I made blueberry pancakes for breakfast. The repetitious task let my thoughts wander. I couldn't get Ben out of my head. It wasn't that he was mysterious, obviously a witch who took a great deal of pride in his research and powers and who was lonely, seeing as he didn't have anything better to do on a Friday night. What made Ben occupy my thoughts was that he was roughly the same age as Wyatt and Chris, yet he was demon hunting. And while he had gone to puke when he saw the body, that was the only indication he gave that he wasn't a veteran when it came to it. To be honest, I had felt like puking myself when I saw the body.

He made me wonder if maybe Wyatt and Chris were ready to help. Of course, they had to get over what had happened to Aaron first or they would be so wrapped up in their vengeance they'd get reckless and killed. In two months time would probably be good.

I was now finished with the last of the pancakes, and put the plate on the table and bowl in the sink. I sat down at the kitchen table, and ate slowly as the kids wolfed down their pancakes, which were of course slathered in maple syrup. I remembered how hard it had been to get Mel to sleep last night. This time at least she'd be able to get down from her sugar rush.

"How did it go last night?" Leo asked me. Wyatt and Chris's eyes had tried to stare holes in their blueberry pancakes, but now their heads snapped up.

"It could have gone better," I said. "Mel, why don't you tell me about the movie night?"

"It was fun," Mel said. "The movie we watched was a bit scary, though."

"She screamed," Chris said with a half smile.

"Hey, I did not!" Mel protested, and then she and Chris recounted the evening. There was a lot of 'Hey, I did not!'. Wyatt even contributed three times, though he was still mad at Leo and I for not letting him go demon hunting. Wonder what Ben's parents thought of him demon hunting? If they even knew about it.

* * *

Phoebe, Paige (she had already talked to the Elders, and as usual they had nothing of value to contribute; they had already told us everything they knew), Billie and I were in the library in Magic School, sitting at a rectangular table on the four chairs surrounding it. There was piles of books next to the table, books that we thought had valuable information but in fact didn't. We still hadn't found whatever books Ben had used as a source, nor was he in the library's logs. There were of course other places you could go to for information, but those were mostly demonic.

"Hey, here's something," Billie said and read out loud: "Saul, his wife and daughter went missing a few weeks ago. No one know who killed them, but Saul was very upper level and he used to be one of the Source's most trusted men, or demons, so to take him out you'd have to be pretty powerful." Billie looked up from the computer. "Whoever killed this guy could be the one doing the rituals. And it could be that whoever is not after us, but demons. Maybe it's even a witch."

"No, it's not," Phoebe said and shook her head. "Someone Good wouldn't kill a young, defenseless baby. The other victims doesn't exactly have criminal pasts either, I think it's a demon."

Today's atmosphere was much more relaxed. We weren't hiding behind pleasantries now, maybe it was because Billie was here or because we had processed the baby's corpse.

"Maybe you're right," Billie conceded.

"Or it's a demon who wants to be upper level and is killing because of that. You remember that half demon who wanted to become a full demon and so killed his family?" Paige said. "It could be that and it's just supposed to look like a ritual."

"This used to be easier," I said and shut my book. "This is going nowhere. Maybe we should talk to Mikhail and see what ideas he has. He seemed to know a lot when we talked to him on the phone. And he probably knows more about what's going on in the Underworld than Ben does."

"I think that they both seem weird," Billie said. "I mean, first there's Ben who sends out his-"

"You mean Mikhail," Paige said.

"Yeah, Mikhail, and he sends out his young charge, who I doubt has seen corpses before, to deal with this. And then there's Ben, who, well, he's given us the only information we know for sure. He seems suspicious. Like, like one of those demon assassins who just have to get close first," Billie said.

"Wasn't that what we said about that boyfriend of yours and you completely ignored it?" Phoebe said.

Billie had about a year ago met a guy named Clark. He was kind, smart and funny. He was just the guy for Billie. They had the same taste in movies, music and food. Then he tried to kill her. We had warned her beforehand, but she didn't listen. Who did? But it was nice to know that we still had things to teach her.

"Remember Cole?" Billie teased back and Phoebe smiled.

"Hey-" Paige began.

"Shush," Phoebe said. We waited in silence. "Sorry, I thought I heard something."

"Well, I'll continue then. I know who Ben reminds me off," Paige said. "We talked about it yesterday. I didn't like Ben because he reminded me of someone whom I really didn't like. It's Cole. They have the exact same smile."

"No," Phoebe said. "I don't think so. I didn't see it, and Cole was my husband. Besides, all this weirdness might just be because he was nervous. He was really nervous. But that's no wonder, he's a kid. It's his first time hunting demons. Wyatt and Chris would be the same, they're also young."

"What?" Wyatt asked. He stood in the doorway to the library. He must've been what Phoebe thought that she'd heard.

"Yes?" I said.

"There is someone helping you with this who is the same age as Chris and I? Then why the hell aren't we allowed to help? We have more powers than that, that, that weird dude and more experience with fighting demons. This isn't fair!" Wyatt yelled.

"Wyatt, Leo and I don't want you and Chris to die," I told him.

"So? You want this dude to die? You know we want to help you, you know we want to vanquish demons why can't we and why can he?" The bookshelves were rattling.

"His whitelighter thought that he could help with the information side of things," Paige said.

"No, you're lying. You're just trying to make me calm down. The hell I am!" Wyatt orbed away and a few books fell to the floor with a thud.

"Well, that went well," I said.

I was concerned about sending Wyatt, and Chris as a tag-along, hunting demons but they may have a point. Ben seemed to have taken it in a stride.

* * *

I knocked on Paige's door. She had called earlier and said that she wanted to scry for a new victim. Phoebe and Billie hadn't been able to come since they had a double-date. Phoebe had arranged it as usual, and it would probably end up the usual way too. The previous one had resulted in a food fight and the one before that in Billie being robbed.

"Hey," Paige said as she opened the door. "How did it go?"

"Badly," I said. "You'd think they get that we just care about them and _don't _want them to get hurt, but apparently that's over their heads."

Paige then led me into the apartment and we sat down at the kitchen table, where there was a computer hooked up to a crystal. Technology had moved on, and so had we. Or, Billie loved computers and didn't want to do anything without them, and this did mean we didn't have to have so many maps. Paige placed her hand on the crystal and started moving it around.

"I've been thinking," Paige said. "I think that we should have a meeting with Mikhail, preferably without Ben knowing about it."

"You think that there's something fishy about him?" I asked. I didn't think so. Ben may be weird, but he was teenager. It was part of their culture to be weird.

"What Billie said today, it stuck with me. I mean, he may not be like that, but there's plenty of things that suggest it. Remember what he was wearing? It looks just like what warlocks wear. And when he talked about the ritual, it seemed like he was remembering doing it himself."

"He's a teen, they wear dark clothes. It's supposed to reflect their inner adult," I said and rolled my eyes. Wyatt was dressing wholesome now just like he had done that time he came to visit from the future, hopefully he wouldn't go through that phase. But you never knew.

"Maybe I'm just projecting Cole onto Ben," Paige said. We sat in silence for awhile. "How _are _Chris and Wyatt? You said it went badly, how badly?"

"They're grounded," I reported.

The computer emitted a beep. "I've got something. Seems like I was right about the demon striking again. Let's go." Paige stood up and held out her hand.

"Shouldn't we get Billie and Phoebe?" I asked.

"Nah, let them enjoy their dates. We can always orb out."

I grabbed her hand and we orbed. Orbing is a strange feeling, like you're dissolving, the different parts of you being separated and when you've arrived at your destination you feel more whole than before.

We arrived in a park, just in time to see someone shimmer away. It rained a bit and the only light came from the lampposts, but we could still see that there was a body there. We stepped closer. The head, feet and hands were missing. The body was stocky, wearing a coat, knitted shirt and pants that couldn't have been washed this year. There was a cat next to the body, with what looked like a broken neck.

"We were too late," Paige said.

"Yeah, but we were kinda counting on that, weren't we?"

"Yeah. I still hoped that we'd be able to do something," Paige said, obviously blaming herself for this. I felt the same way, but what could we do?

Paige took a deep breath. "Anyway, let's look around and see if there's any clues.

We looked around the body, but I couldn't see anything weird. The feet looked as normal as a pair of cut off feet could. The hands were short two fingers, but they were obviously old losses. There was nothing there to indicate who had killed her. The head had a tangle of black hair that didn't look like it had been near water this year either, but that didn't mean anything. Maybe it meant that whoever did this went after hobos now, but nothing else.

"Look at this," Paige said. She was crouched down in the grass a few feet to the left of me. I quickly walked over. In the dark and wet grass lay a bloody athame. I remembered what Ben had said: _"There's no need for a special athame, you just need it to be clean so it doesn't sully the blood."_

"We've got our lead now," I said. Something to scry with was more than we could've hoped for. "We should call Phoebe and Billie now so another baby isn't killed. We've got our chance now."

Paige and I looked at each other and smiled.

**AN: Tell me what you think! Was anything superfluous? Was it boring? Who do you think is doing this?**


	13. And co

**AN: IMPORTANT! Billie's POV.**

And co.

The Charmed Ones and I were in Paige's house, scrying for the murderer. We still didn't know who he was, but that wasn't important. That was what magic was for, unfortunately Magic didn't seem to be up to the task right now. We were getting frustrated.

Paige was sitting at the computer and scrying; so far we had got about twenty results. The first few we checked, of course, but it turned out to be graves. A bit of research said that the towns in which the cemeteries lay had had a bit of an issue with a serial killer, so we came to the conclusion that the athame simply lead us to people who had done the ritual. Now we were waiting for something to turn up in Seattle or here in San Francisco.

"Finally!" Paige exclaimed. "It's landed on a park in Seattle."

Piper leaned over Paige's shoulder. "Isn't that the park that we found the body in?"

"I still think you should've told us," I said. The double-date yesterday had been a disaster in that it was awkward as hell. Phoebe meant well, and so did Coop, but I didn't feel like romance right now. None of the guys measured up to Clark, who had been a wholly fabricated person, but just the guy for me. I was thinking about hiring an escort just to make Coop and Phoebe stop trying. It was embarrassing and painful. In about ten years or an eternity I might start laughing at the whole business.

"Yeah, but you were enjoying your dates," Piper said. "And it didn't end in a complete disaster."

"Well, let's go, before he disappears," Phoebe said. She didn't like talking about the failed dates anymore than I did.

We grabbed onto Paige and orbed into some convenient shrubbery, out of sight for the people in the park. We walked out of the shrubbery and then cursed the fact that we hadn't brought our coats. It was windy and we were of course wearing t-shirts.

"Paige, could you?" Phoebe asked, hugging herself.

"Of course," she said. "Jackets." They appeared in a shower of blue orbs. "Right, the person should be over there," Paige said and pointed at a bench. A guy or a girl wearing a black hoodie was sitting there, his left hand on the handle of a stroller, gently rocking it.

"That must be him," I said.

We walked purposefully towards the bench and then stood in a line in front of the person. It was a boy with brown hair, plump lips and cheekbones. All in all he looked a bit frail, and not at all like the typical demon who, even if they hadn't been born with the look of a thug, usually managed to look at least a bit menacing thanks to a scar or stubble or grime. Nothing screamed dangerous like grime did.

"Ben?" Piper asked incredulously.

"Hi," he said and looked stumped. "Ehm... Have you found anything new? I know that there has been another sacrifice, so you haven't vanquished him yet."

"Are you the one doing this?" Phoebe asked.

"Idiotic to come back to the place of the crime," Paige remarked.

"What? No," he said and shook his head. He removed the hood and put a lock of hair behind his ear. It was of no use; it blew out of its' confinement. "I haven't done anything. Seriously, why would I help you if I had done anything? And I'm a witch," he added like an afterthought.

"Why are you here then?" Phoebe asked.

"And with a baby," Piper said, clearly not approving of it.

"Well, the twins really wanted to come here and I didn't feel like putting up a fight. It's all a coincidence. Well, no, it's not. We came here because of the body, Joanie wanted to see a crime-scene, but now we're just regular park-goers," he explained.

"The twins?" I asked.

"My siblings. They're over there. Turning seven in a month," he told us, a slight smile on his face. He may be weirdly fascinated by the Heka ritual, but at least he liked his siblings.

"Is this really a place for kids?" Piper asked.

"The body's been cleaned away." He paused. "You really haven't found anything? You're the _Charmed Ones and co._"

"And co.?" I asked.

"Unless you're their long lost sister who's surprisingly blonde, then no, you're not a Charmed One."

Ben wasn't weird, exactly. He was just annoying. He acted like he had all the facts and we didn't. It was probably mostly true, but did he have to lord it over our heads?

Piper sat down next to Ben. "We did find something. Paige and I were scrying yesterday to see if we could find something, and we did. We found the body and an athame. This morning we've been scrying with it. Do you want to know something funny?"

"That you can't scry to save your life?" He saw our faces. "Just kidding, of course you can. Ehm, what could've been funny?" He frowned. "There wasn't any blood on it?"

"Oh, there was. The funny things is that we've gotten twenty odd results. The athame finds anyone who has done the ritual, and it landed on you. You're the only result in Seattle."

"What do you have to say about that?" I asked loudly because of the wind.

"Don't yell," he muttered, and threw a glance at the stroller. "If she wakes up she won't stop yelling."

Piper gave him a _look._

"No one. The athame... Well, maybe it just hones in on anyone who has ever done the ritual. I used it to rip my sister-in-law's spine out. No, just kidding," he said when he saw our faces. "The athame could've been bought at a second hand store, 'cause, as I told you, it doesn't have to be a special athame. Any kind of athame would do. I have vanquished a few... warlocks and of course I've touched their athames. I usually pawn them, someone could easily have gotten it."

We looked at each other. It was a good story, but it didn't hold.

"Well, thank you," Piper said. "For your help."

"You'll keep me up to date, right?" he asked.

"Of course, honey," Phoebe said.

We orbed back to Paige's. It was obvious what we had to do.

* * *

Phoebe and I were in her kitchen making dinner. It was real simple stuff, boiling pasta and opening cans of stew. Paige orbed in.

"Hi. We're meeting Mikhail at Piper's tomorrow morning," she told us.

"Good," I said. "He must know something about the athame."

Paige sat down on one of the chairs surrounding the kitchen table and Phoebe sat down opposite her.

"He freaked out when I found him though, and the Elder who I talked to, you know, to find him, he seemed a bit senile. Do Elders get senile?"

"They get old just like everybody else. What did he say?" Phoebe asked.

"Or who was he with?" I asked. That was probably one of the few reasons a whitelighter would freak at seeing another whitelighter. Sure, the Elders didn't crack down as hard on a whitelighter falling in love with his/her charge anymore, but s/he had to become a regular person and it was heavily implied that the couple in question should get married as well.

"I think I just scared him. Anyway, he said he could talk with us now, I just figured that I'd check if it was okay. Is it?"

"Well, if he's fine with eating dinner with us, then sure. Have you asked Piper?" Phoebe said.

"Yeah, she said she didn't have time. Her restaurant. I'll go get him."

Dinner started out tense. Mikhail ate some, Phoebe insisted since he looked like a skeleton. He had pale blond hair, sharp cheekbones and freckles. When he smiled his face lit up and then you could see that maybe he wasn't that bad. When he didn't, though, he was just the guy who had spent high school doing drugs, and college, and in the end he didn't do anything other than that. He had perpetual bags underneath his eyes and was stick thin. A light breeze would blow him over.

Dinner ended being tense when PJ decided that she had had enough of the awkwardness and started asking Mikhail questions. She had a tendency to do this with supernatural creatures, so really it was no surprise when she did so. She started her barrage of questions with: "How did you die?"

Mikhail coughed and took a sip of water. "I'm sorry?"

"How did you die? You're a whitelighter, you must have _died. _Was it bloody?"

Parker and Penelope looked up from their dinner and stared at Mikhail. He chuckled nervously.

"Well?" Parker demanded.

"Well?" Penelope imitated.

"Very bloody," Mikhail said, looking at Phoebe for guidance on what to say. "It was a grenade."

"When did you die?" PJ asked.

"Eh..."

"She always asks questions like this," Phoebe said, Coop nodded in agreement.

"Okay. Autumn 1941."

"Did you have a family?"

Mikhail nodded.

"Are they still alive?"

"No, they're not." He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but decided not to.

"Oh, I'm sorry," PJ said, and Mikhail tried for a neutral expression, but you could see him thinking 'well what the hell did you expect?' "How many charges do you have?"

"Ten," Mikhail said and managed to get an impressive amount of food onto his fork. He started to inhale his food.

"Are you in a forbidden relationship with one of your charges? You know, Aunt Piper and Uncle Leo was in a forbidden relationship, and now it's not forbidden anymore."

"I'm not in a relationship with one of my charges, no."

"Do you like mom, aunt Paige and aunt Piper?" Parker asked.

"I think that the Charmed Ones has done a lot for us," Mikhail said. "Are you done?" he asked Paige, Phoebe and I.

"We are," Paige said. "Let's go."

We left the kitchen and walked to Phoebe's office, where we sat down on the couch and Mikhail stood there a bit awkwardly.

"She's just curious," Paige said. "She's asked me all kinds of questions too, and Sam, my dad."

"It's fine," Mikhail said, but he obviously didn't mean it.

Phoebe entered the office. "Sorry about that, she's just in that phase, you know. Anyway, what's the deal with Ben? I know that you wanted him to help us so that he'd get some experience that will come in handy further down the road, and that he's really gone in for collecting information, but there are a few worrying things."

"Like what?" Mikhail asked, and you could see him going into the same mind-set Piper did when someone said something bad about Wyatt, Chris or Mel.

"We discovered the hobo first, and we found the murder weapon," Phoebe began.

"One of them," Paige inserted.

"Right, and we scryed with it and Ben turned up."

"Maybe there was something wrong with the crystal-"

"It's not," I interrupted.

"-or it's like Ben said and you get all the owners. For all you know, one of the previous results you got could have been the murderer only you didn't bother to find out because it was too much work."

"Hey!" we said at the same time.

"I didn't mean to insult you, I'm just saying. Anyway, you know that the one common denominator that the victims had was that they had a lot of spirit, so to speak, can't you look for that in Seattle? You'd find the next likely victims and you'd be able to keep an eye on them and maybe you'd find the murderer."

"That is a really good idea," Paige said, impressed. "Why didn't we think of that?"

"Maybe you didn't think of it because you're used to your suspects coming to you," Mikhail said. "Was there anything else worrying?"

"He reminds us of someone," Phoebe said delicately. "Someone who might have been evil."

"Oh, no worries there. He's not suddenly going to go around and kill people willy-nilly," Mikhail said, amused. "He's really a very loving person. Loves his siblings."

"And you don't think that he's going to snap from this?" I asked.

"Snap?"

"Yeah, go crazy and start going around killing people willy-nilly," I said.

"No. He's ready for the big bad world. He's a nice, well-adjusted kid who's a bit morbid. Was that all?"

"Yeah, sure," Phoebe said. "It was nice meeting you."

Mikhail just stood there.

"You just have to orb," Paige said.

"Couldn't you show me the door? Directly orbing out like that feels rude."

"Oh," Phoebe said shocked. "Well, come on."

They left. Paige and I looked at each other and shrugged. Unfortunately, it didn't seem like Ben was the one. Not with his whitelighter backing him in that way.


	14. Live For a Century, Grieve For a Century

**AN: IMPORTANT! Mikhail's POV.**

Live For a Century, Grieve For a Century

"When you get out of the elevator, turn left and then on your right you'll see a big door leading outside. Walk left down the street and you'll see an alley a few buildings later," Phoebe told me. We were standing at the door of her condo.

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome. And thank you for coming so quickly," Phoebe said.

"Not a problem," I said. "Goodbye."

"Bye."

I pressed the button next to the elevator and let my face relax. 'Be polite, smile and lie your ass off' the Source had told me.

The elevator arrived and I stepped in, pressed the button and started to massage my cheeks. I may not be a party pooper, but it wasn't as if I actually liked the Charmed Ones. They were, after all, the Charmed Ones! Paragons of good and denial.

The elevator door opened and I stepped out. I opened the big, wide doors of the apartment block and walked outside. I turned left towards the alley that I could orb from. But even though the Charmed Ones hadn't impressed me at all (Were they idiots? Why hadn't they started by looking through Seattle?), I was happy. Happy for the first time since the Source had cut off my hand. Maybe it was saying that he would never snap and start killing willy-nilly. Maybe it was lying to an empath and apparently getting away with it. Even the fucking kids amused me. Maybe it was that the oldest, P.J., reminded me of my own sister. Izolda had always asked as many questions as she could before the person she was interrogating got fed up and either pushed her away, yelled at her, or ran off. I always found it too funny to stop her.

I was now in the alley Phoebe had talked about and I orbed to the Seattle penthouse.

"How did it go?" the Source asked, looking at me over the edge of his laptop, his fingers still typing.

"Good. I think they swallowed it. And they're going to screen Seattle for people with a lot of spiritual power, which the murderer should have, so maybe it'll be fixed soon," I said and sat down with my own computer. Time to go through the daily mail.

The computer had just started when the Source said: "You did what?"

"I acted like a whitelighter. Like you told me to."

"I think you forgot the part where you're a darklighter masquerading as a whitelighter. You know, _we'll _turn up."

"So? They already know about us?"

"Yeah, except I'm a simple witch," the Source said. He shot a fireball towards me, which I ducked. "We have to leave. Let's go to New York." He shut his laptop.

"Won't..." I trailed off. The Source looked at me and I figured what the hell. "Won't Belthazor turn up as well?"

"Fuck. Of course he will. I'll go warn him and you move to the NY penthouse." The Source flamed away.

I took his stuff and mine, balanced our computers on each other, slung his backpack over my shoulder and took the files I'd probably need within the next three days. It was wobbling so I orbed to the bed in the NY penthouse and let everything fall on it. It was too soft to sleep on, but now that was a good thing.

I walked out of the bedroom and into what the Source and I called 'the Office'. There was a cleaner there.

"Hello, I didn't see you, do you want me to leave?" she said with the air of one who has said that countless of times before. She had a naturally tanned complexion, a beard growth more impressive than the Source's and very wide arms. And then the Source flamed in. I summoned my crossbow and shot her.

"Was that really necessary?" the Source asked after the cleaner had landed with a thump on the floor.

This was one of the bad things with the Source being whole. Of course, I didn't have to spend all my waking hours working, on the other hand, he had gotten queasy. "Definitely," I told him, grabbed some towels from her cart and placed them underneath her. Thankfully, the blood had yet to stain.

"Well, I couldn't find Belthazor. He wasn't at work, no big surprise there, but he wasn't at home either and he didn't answer my phone call. Where the hell would he be a Sunday evening?"

"I don't know," I said and glanced at my wrist watch. "But right now you have a meeting with Leslie." Leslie was the annoyingly perky demon lady of Australia and the parts of the Underworld that was underneath Australia. Even though she was cute, she had a big love of torture. She was also on of the few demon lords who still thought that the Source should control the Underworld, of course, as long as he didn't try to have a say in what she did.

"Right," the Source said. "You don't have to come, if you don't want to."

"No, I don't."

The Source flamed away. I was glad that he had offered me a choice. Something about Leslie was unsettling and it wasn't as if I needed to be there.

I went to get my computer from the pile on the bed and sat down on the couch in the office. I spent about an hour going through the daily mail. Soon I'd have to come up with a system, it was too much.

The doorbell rang. I went to open the door and the man on the other side was very attractive, if a bit too tall. Like basically everybody of this modern age who had gotten enough to eat when they were younger. He had brown hair and blue eyes and looked too much like the Source to be anyone other than Belthazor.

"Is the Source here?" he asked.

"No, he has an important meeting. But he wanted to see you earlier to tell you that the Charmed Ones are looking for candidates to the Heka ritual and that you'd probably turn up."

"Well, thank you for telling me," Belthazor said and looked around in the corridor. He wanted to come in. Well, he'd have to ask. In my days as a darklighter upper-level demons always ordered me around. But not anymore. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," I said and Belthazor walked inside. "But you can't stay here while the Charmed Ones screen."

"I won't," he said. He was now standing in front of the cleaner's body, his shoulders tensed. "Was that really necessary?"

"Oh yes," I said. "After all, we can't reveal magic. Then the Cleaners come and scrub you out of reality like you're a stain on Reality's gorgeous white shirt."

I still remembered when they had taken my charge, Marley. It wasn't as if anything really bad happened. Things just spiraled out of control and the whole neighborhood did want to kill him, but that was life.

"Okay," Belthazor said and sat down on the couch. "When will the Source be back? And what's your name?"

"My name's Mikhail and I think he will be back in a couple of hours. Or he'll go back to his family."

"So he's not worried about the Charmed Ones?"

"They won't be up all night and his siblings are cute," I said. "What is it that you want to talk to him about?"

"I know who the murderer is," Belthazor said.

"Really?" I said and was just about to continue my line of questioning when the doorbell rang. Again. "Hold that thought."

I opened the door and on the other side was the hotel manager. This penthouse was the top floor of a hotel, which meant that the Source and I had access to a lot of conference rooms and that a cleaner was included in the price. The cleaner was dead now, of course, but it wasn't as if we wouldn't get a new one.

"Hello," I said.

"Hello Mr Mostovoy. I'm sorry to disturb you like this but one of our cleaners has gone missing. Franqueria Delgado y Grande, 42 years old, Latina. She was supposed to be cleaning here, well, an hour ago. Have you seen her?"

"No, no, not at all," I answered. "As a matter of fact, I don't think that we have gotten new towels. Maybe she didn't make it here."

"Oh, well thank you for your time," the hotel manager said and I closed the door. I turned back to Belthazor.

"Who is it?"

"My secretary. Apparently I killed her family about 30 years ago and now she wants her revenge."

"You don't remember?" I asked.

"No, I don't," Belthazor said annoyed. "Do you know if Franqueria Delgado y Grande has a family?"

"Who?"

"The cleaner," Belthazor said and gestured towards the body.

"You know what? I think you should stay here until we've killed the secretary, or at least talked to the Source. He won't be back for some time, so we can dispose of the body. What do you say?"

Belthazor looked like he was about to refuse but then he agreed. We dumped the body in the Hudson, as in the most cliched place to dump a body when you're living in Manhattan. Belthazor burned the flesh around the arrow wound. If the police ever found her, what would they make of that?

Afterward, I went through the daily mail and Belthazor watched TV. We'd be a great surreal painting, the former upper-level demon and a darklighter.

The Source flamed in three hours after he had left for his meeting. He had now spent four hours with Leslie; I was so glad I had been able to decline.

"What are you doing here?" was the first words he said when he had solidified. He was glaring at Belthazor. "And where were you before?"

"One, I know who the murderer is, and two, your girlfriend was worried about you so she kidnapped me," Belthazor said. What, the Source had a girlfriend? He had killed my last hook-up, and now he had a girlfriend?

"My girlfriend?" the Source asked, as confused as I was. "Oh, you mean," he said and waved his arms around. It was too vague for me to understand but Belthazor knew. It must be a family thing. "Maybe I should send her a message. Who's the murderer?"

"My secretary. Didn't you imply that she would be the next victim?"

"Yeah, she has a lot of spiritual power... Fuck! I should have realized something was up, not many has that much," the Source berated himself.

"I was wondering what we're going to do, since the Charmed Ones are involved. We can't just vanquish her," Belthazor said.

"With the Heka ritual it's not that simple. At all."

"What's the plan, then?" I asked. "Do you think that the Charmed Ones could take her out, because I don't they haven't done anything in a long time."

"Doesn't change facts," Belthazor said, "which is that they spent nearly a decade fighting evil."

"That's great," I said. "When was the last time they faced anything big?"

"Mikhail, stop it," the Source said and I fell quiet.

The next hour the Source and Belthazor spent making a plan. They didn't include me, of course, because Belthazor either followed the Source's lead or thought that I was an incompetent murderer. Just because I don't think his ex is up to the task.

* * *

_I just knew that something bad was going to happen. I don't know why, Marion was as happy as could be. Her smile was nearly splitting her face into two halves. Her baby was for once quiet. They made a great picture as they sat on the porch, the sun shining making Marion's hair look like a halo, all the stray strands lighting up. _

_And then I knew, I knew what was going to go wrong. Ku Klux Klan members were going to come when I wasn't there, when I was talking to the Elders and they would say that it wasn't important and then I would come back to check._

_I was now sitting on my knees with Marion's head in my lap, my hands bloody._

"_We killed those bastards!" Chekhov yelled, took a big gulp of vodka and pressed his face into my neck. "I love you," he whispered._

I opened my eyes. Of course. Chekhov. Marion, her husband and baby. People that I had loved and who had loved me back, only to be taken from this world because of circumstances that I couldn't do anything about.

I was laying on my stomach in my bed. I could hear sirens from outside. I turned to my back and kicked the sheets off me. I kicked the bed a bit more.

Despite the amount of time that had gone since they died, 70 and 50 years respectively, I still missed them like crazy. I missed mom Izolda and Marley. Basically everybody who had ever loved me and whom I had loved back.

And this was just because of the Source! Because of him, I had played whitelighter. It was a role that fitted me perfectly, even though my cheeks had hurt afterward. But being a whitelighter fitted me _too _perfectly, because I always listened to the Elders. I never trusted myself, like the other whitelighters did.

A gunshot rang through the night. Fuck's sake, shoot at a decent hour, you idiots.

I closed my eyes and managed to get some fitful sleep.


	15. The Ruler of the Dead

**AN: IMPORTANT! Hel's POV.**

The Ruler of the Dead

I walked twenty purposeful steps forward, turned and repeated. Maybe pacing a hole in the floor of my reception hall wasn't the best course of action, and maybe whatever satisfaction I had gotten earlier wasn't coming to me nos, but I was not going to stop.

Twenty laps later I threw myself down on my divan and sighed loudly. Then I huffed. Then I was momentarily hopeful when, on the big wall behind the my desk announced 300 dead. Then they all ended up in hell, so the Source couldn't be responsible.

Then I made up my mind. I was Hel. I took care of the dead. I had more power than I could control. I was not going ot pine after the Source. Not that that was what I was doing. Pine was just a word I liked. Instead of pining, I was a concerned friend who just wanted to _know. _How would I get to know? Well, I would summon Cole.

I started saying the incantation, the magic gathered around me like a cloak, when I realized that maybe I should summon him in a more nice way. The last times he had, after all, fainted.

I took a deep breath and slowly and carefully started to speak. I used all the tricks father had taught me, such as _not _gathering everything up for a powerful strike but letting it go consistently. It felt odd, doing it that way, but Cole was slowly appearing in his chair so obviously this way worked too.

The summon was finished and Cole now sat in his regular chair, pale, shell-shocked and with his eyes and mouth shut. He slowly opened his eyes and then unclenched his jaw.

"The transportation was better, wasn't it?" I asked. Then I wondered if I should've said hello first. Maybe I could say it now? Tack it on to the end?

"No," Cole said. It was a 'no' that couldn't mean anything other than no. I was not going to say hello.

"I try to do things better got you and all you do is complain," I complained. "I just-" I started, then I realized that yelling wouldn't put Cole in a better mood. In fact, I would probably make him angrier. "I just..." I sat down on the divan opposite Cole. "You see, usually, when there's a new Source, people die. He kills to keep me updated. It's very kind of him. But this one hasn't done _anything_! I just want to know what he's up to."

"You want me to tell you what he's up to?" Cole asked. "Because he hasn't killed anyone who can d it."

"I thought I had made myself clear."

"Crystal. Well, I assume he's trying to take control over the Underworld. He's been gone for fifteen years and it's not as if I was a very good Source."

"That makes sense," I nodded. "Wait, you _assume_? You don't keep track off your own son? Isn't he your only child? Besides, your _theory _doesn't explain why he hasn't contacted me."

"Okay," Cole said simply. I thought that there was something suspicious about that simple okay. He must know more, the Source was his son! And as far as I knew they lived in the same town. Maybe they had grown in size in the last thousand years, but _that _much couldn't have changed.

"Is that really all you know?" I asked, walked over to his chair and grabbed the armrests. Cole quickly put his hands in his lap. "Is it?" I put my face close to his. I was hideous, scary even. The demons' Bogeyman. Maybe this was the time that those facts would do something else than lower my self-esteem to pitiable levels.

"I have another theory," Cole allowed. I raised my left eyebrow. It was a technique I had perfected over the centuries.

"What is the theory about?"

"There's a magical serial killer in Seattle. He or she has killed six people in a Heka ritual. The Charmed Ones are there investigating. He's probably scared to do something as long as they're breathing down his neck."

"I guess that makes sense," I said thoughtfully. I sat back down on my divan again.

The Charmed Ones were the issue and there was nothing I could do about that. There had to be a balance in the world and so far it was too early to kill them. Another generation of Good had to grow up first.

There was nothing I could co about the serial killer since I didn't know who it was. But wait! There has been victims. Serial killer meant a lot of them. As long as I had a name I could summon them and ask them who it was. And the Cole could tell the Source and the problem would be solved.

"I can help," I told Cole.

"That's great. Do I need to be here for that?"

"Of course. Do you have anything better to do than help catch a killer?"

"Yes."

"No, you don't. If you do it's being in Jörmungandr's tender care. Do you want to do that instead?" I threatened.

"No, of course I don't," Cole said.

"Good. Then I need the names."

"The names?" Cole repeated.

I sighed. For the first time in my life I didn't want to prolong the contact with the living and of course this was the time that the living in question wanted to prolong.

"I'm sorry, but I don't' remember any of them."

"Well, find out then!" I yelled. "I'll send you away for, say, twenty minutes. That should be enough," I decided. This time I did not take it slow. I was mad at Cole. I needed him so I couldn't just send him to Jörmungandr like I really wanted, but I could make his existence difficult.

* * *

"Juan Gonzales, 42, Nina McDougall, 3, Marion Crane, 21, Jenna Malone, 33, Timothy Smith, 6 months and an unidentified female homeless in her seventies," Cole rattled off. He had included the ages. For some reason I felt like proud mother, like my son had gone out into the world and done much better than you ever thought he would.

"Thank you," I said and hugged him. He shied away from me and felt as solid as my stone pillars. It was probably too early to hug him and I briefly entertained the thought of to let go but he felt like the Source. I did not let go.

"Hehum," Cole said. I let go slowly.

"Thank you, again, for the names. I think that I should summon Jenna and you talk to her."

"Why me?" Cole asked.

"Are you questioning me?" I demanded. I was hideous. Cole was not and Jenna was in her thirties. Talking to a man who looked like he was her age would make her open up. Talking to me, would not. She'd run away screaming and then I would have to chase after her.

"Of course not," Cole replied.

I summoned Jenna in a big burst of magic and then ran toward on of the pillars to hide behind. I peeked out and winced. Henna had hit the floor so Cole was now dragging her onto a chair. At least he had the sense not to touch my divan.

I listened attentively.

"Are you okay?" Cole asked.

"Yeah, I guess so. Where am I?" Jenna answered. Her voice was both shrill and hoarse. I was glas that my voice was better. That was the one part of me that wasn't bad.

"You are in a special place," Cole said. I was just about to huff when I realized that they would hear me should I do so. Instead I huffed in my mind. A special place? _That _was what Cole called my reception area? Could he even fathom the effort I had put into it? How much work I had put into my divan, which, of course, was the most exquisite divan in all dimensions? At least he said special.

I didn't listen very attentively now. It was all just Cole explaining in a very bad way and comforting Jenna. And she was prettier than I was, even though her voice was horrible. Not that it was hard to be prettier than me. Maybe I should stop caring about what I looked like? I looked at my right hand. It wouldn't be possible. Whenever I looked at myself I would see that my body was in varying stages of decay. This hand was just skeleton. One day it would disappear altogether like my left foot.

"It was awful," miss Pretty said. Oh, they were getting to the interesting part! "I was out on my usual cigarette break, the nicotine always calms me down and after all the children I also need the quiet. Then she came. I thought she was some mom considering putting her child in the school, so I didn't tell her to fuck off, excuse my french, when she presented herself. I mean, not that I usually am like this, but the cigarette break is, I mean, was, a bit sacred to me."

"I understand," Cole interrupted. Damn you Cole! She was just about to reveal the name and then you go and have to _comfort _her again. Again!

"Good. Well, I don't remember the name, I'm afraid. Would that help?"

"It would, but it's not necessary. Tell me what happened then."

"Well, she..." the stupid girl said. "She, this is gonna sound weird, but it was like she took me away and well, left me a zombie. Don't know how else to explain it. And then she used, like, a miniature sword to cut off my feet. It didn't hurt, strangely enough. I felt it, but there wasn't any pain invlved. Now after, it's a fucking weird weapon to use, but I didn't think of it then. Then she cut off my hand and at last my head. That's it."

"Could you describe her to me, the woman?" Cole asked. Well, if the stupid girl couldn't remember the name, what were the chances that she would remember what she looked like? Except not like me, but that description wasn't worth anything.

"White. Kind of meek, not really the kind of woman you'd think would become a serial killer. Or maybe you would, they say it's always the quiet ones, right?"

"Yes," Cole said. He didn't sound exasperated. He sounded as if every word out of the stupid girl's mouth was important.

"She was wearing like a suit. I don't know what it's called, but like a lawyer but instead of a pair of pants she was wearing a pencil skirt. Maybe she is a lawyer. I don't know. Her hair was really rat-colored, that's a bit unusual. And she had a very peculiar necklace. It was silver and like a star and a cross, a christian one. Do you get what I mean?"

"Yes. Do you remember if she said anything other than her name?"

"I'm really sorry that I don't remember it. Anyway, now that you say it. She kept ranting about a bell and I think she was sore somewhere. She said, like, bell the sore. I don't know. It sounds fucking crazy, doesn't it? Does that mean something to you?"

"It does, actually. Thank you very much," Cole answered. _Belthazor _was his name, after all was he behind all this? Oh, if he is...

I collected a big amount of magic, jumped out from behind the pillar and hit Jenna with it. I looked at Cole. "Did you do it? Are you behind all this?"

"What, no! What would make you think that?" Cole asked.

"Well, she said _your name_, didn't she? Your kind-of-name, at least."

"True. But it's not me. It's my secretary. I remember it now. _Belthazor _killed her family about twenty years ago, so now she's doing the Heka ritual to get her revenge. It's all your fault actually, because if you hadn't resurrected the Source she wouldn't have been my secretary and then she wouldn't become a serial killer so that she could kill me."

"What, my fault? Why would I hinder the Source in any way? But it's amazing that you figured out who it was from her description." I lay down on my divan. "Now you go tell the Source about this and everything will be solved. I'll transport you to right where he is."

"I think that it would be best if you dropped me off a little bit away," Cole suggested.

"Of course," I said.

I sent him away, and because he had accused me of doing all this, as if, I dropped him a bit longer away than Cole would have wanted. Either way, it would get to the Source. Cole was, sometimes, a nice person. He wouldn't want more people dying.

I closed my eyes and fell asleep. It had been an exciting day.


	16. Fall in Romania

**AN: Ben's POV. He's back, folks! I've edited this chapter and the last part, from the summoning, is entirely new. I suggest re-reading the chapter from there.**

Fall in Romania

My breath fogged in the cold night air. My ears were feeling uncomfortably icy and my fingers had lost all feeling a long time ago. Maybe going to dig up an old athame in the middle of the night wasn't such idea, especially not if you add that I was in Romania and it was fall and graveyards at night were creepy.

At least there were no one here. That was nice. If it had been day time the priest would be here.

Why had I picked this place? Romania is perhaps not that cold, but it gets cold here unlike in, say, California. They don't get snow. Or Florida! It's even warmer there.

But Romania had it's pros, I thought as I dug a hole around a big, old tree in the graveyard. I had started with one hole, convinced that I would find the athame there, but I didn't so I continued digging and now there was a hole you could bury a fresh and bendy body in. Romania was very religious. They wouldn't suddenly forget about a church and the accompanying graveyard, they'd keep it. Maybe less people would be buried there as people moved away, but that was just good. Less chance of people finding my athame.

I sat back on my feet. I had dug around the whole fucking tree, I couldn't use magic in the stupid fucking graveyard because, at the time, I had felt that it was a good idea to cancel out magic in the graveyard. It wasn't, but wisdom comes with age. A cold wind blew and maybe wisdom didn't come with age, because if it did I would have brought one of dad's failed beanies and gloves.

I looked around and tried to remember. I had buried the fucking athame by a tree. That was quite a long time ago, but this place never changed. Did it? No. Anyway the tree was small then, but should be big now, like the tree that I had just dug a moat around.

Maybe there was something I had missed, I thought and walked around the moat. I dug with my hands in the moat. The athame had to turn up, this had to be the tree, I mean, I vaguely remembered one of the gravestones!

I found it then. The boiled leather that I had wrapped around the athame. I took it out of the ground and unwrapped the package. The leather turned into dust in my hands but there it was. The athame. The beautiful athame with a handle made from bone, copper and gold. The simple steel blade, with no markings on.

Now it was time for the next part of the plan. The part that didn't involve Romania in the fall.

* * *

I ran down the stairs, put on my jacket as fast as I could and put my hand on the door handle.

"Wait! Wait, wait, wait," dad said.

"Yeah?" I asked and turned around. "I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"You have to take the twins."

"But I'll be late!"

"You're always late," dad said and proved that he occasionally had contact with reality. "Here."

I opened the door, shoved the twins gently outside and made them run to day care. It was a game, who could get there the fastest.

When I had dropped them off I flamed to the Halliwell Manor.

Seeing the Manor now, after so many years, put it into perspective. They may have some minor money problems, but this was easy a lot bigger than home and in a better neighbourhood. I walked to short path to the porch, went up the stairs and pressed the doorbell with my thumb. The door was then hesitantly opened by a girl just a few years older than Joanie and Jamie.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello to you too. I'm Ben. I would like to talk to your mom," I told her. She closed the door in my face. Well, the Charmed Ones had gotten a lot more paranoid. Rudely paranoid. Piper then opened the door wide.

"Hello. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Hey, I am definitely going to pass all my classes," I protested. After becoming whole I had sorted out all the misunderstandings. I wasn't in danger of getting an F anymore, though if I got anything higher tha would be surprised. "Besides, I know who the killer is. Name, description, why, everything."

"Well, come on in then. I don't think you've picked the best time," Piper said and let me come inside. The Manor hadn't changed much in the last fifteen years. "Paige is working at Magic School today and Phoebe has a morning meeting."

"But this is more important. Do you know how many people can be killed now just because your sisters are going to _work_?"

Piper led me to the kitchen, where Leo was sitting, reading the newspaper. There were pancakes on the table. I haven't eaten pancakes since we had a sleepover at Gina's. My friends were still not happy with me. I still thought that Simon was overreacting, more and more for every day that passed.

"Leo, this is Ben," she introduced me and started removing plates from the table and putting them in the dishwasher.

"Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you," Leo said.

"Great," I said. Seriously, what did you say to that? "Piper, couldn't we call Phoebe and Paige and just vanquish the killer?"

"I guess we could. Who was the killer after? You said you knew."

"You," I lied. "So you better hurry up."

"Us? Are you sure?" Piper asked.

"Of course I am," I responded.

Piper gave up putting the dish in the dishwasher. "I'll call them. Wyatt!"

"Yeah?" a male voice asked. A teenager who looked too proper not to make fun off turned up in the doorway.

"Could you take Ben to the attic and wait with him until I come?"

"Wh-"

"You will do as I say!" Piper yelled. From her tone I gathered that they had fought a lot in the past few days. That was just the way that Grandma sounded when we argued about my room. She thought that it should be cleaned, but I thought it was too small for that.

"Sure, sure," the boy said. "Come," he told me and led me to the attic. He sat down on the couch that was to the right when you walked in through the door and I sat down on one of the chairs that stood around a table that looked like it was just waiting for the next demon attack and then the garbage dump. Despite that there were two book piles on it.

This was not the least bit awkward.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"Wyatt. You're Ben right?"

"Yeah. You've heard of me too?"

"Mhm," Wyatt said and unlike his father, he didn't smile. He looked like I had destroyed his birthday party or something. He didn't know who I was, did he?

"I get the feeling that you don't like me," I said. This was probably opening up a whole can of worms that stemmed from protective parents and a superiority complex.

"I don't know you," he said.

"I bet you do, though. Hate me. Everybody hates me; you can tell me the truth."

"That doesn't make sense," Wyatt said. "And it sounds like you should be put on suicide watch."

"Are you saying that I'm suicidal? No, why would you do that? Let's see, maybe you don't like me because, compared to you, I've got zero powers and yet I get to help your mom save innocents and vanquish the sinful." That sounded wrong. Meh, just smile and pretend like it didn't.

Wyatt looked like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "It doesn't matter. Saving innocents is good."

"But you'd rather be doing it?" I asked.

This, right now, was valuable. One day I would kill the Charmed Ones and their offspring and knowing what made each of them tick was good. Wyatt didn't like being left out, for example, and Piper was like some caricature mother. Phoebe was self-satisfied and Paige was the cool aunt.

"They're coming now," Wyatt said and orbed out. Just like he said, the Charmed Ones now stood in the door opening. They walked inside.

"Where's Wyatt?" Piper asked.

"He just left. Don't worry, he didn't let me look at anything confidential," I said. Not that I had tried doing that, knowing from previous experiences just how futile it was.

"You said you knew, well, everything," Phoebe said to me with a small laugh. She sat down on the chair next to mine. Hopefully she wouldn't pick up on my homicidal, sexual or motherly urges. As long as she only picked up the last two it would just be weird.

"I did and I do. Her name's Alice Johnson. She's white, regular height, fit. Her hair's actually mouse-brown. She usually wear office wear, which is logical since she's a secretary. Her family was killed about twenty years ago; she was ten."

"You said she was after us, but it seems to me that she's after whoever killed her family," Paige said. Piper had obviously filled her sisters in.

"She was, but then... I don't know, this part is a bit fuzzy to me. She blames you for her family getting killed. She thinks it's your fault, somehow, that her family was killed. And it seems like she's hung with the wrong magical crowd."

"But if it's all a misunderstanding, maybe we can talk sense with her?" Phoebe suggested.

"Yeah, right. It's not as if you knew any of the victims, did you? It's not as if this is affecting _you _or anything, you can afford to wait. Fuck's-"

"Language, mister," Piper interrupted.

"Fornication's sake, she killed a baby! You can't talk someone like that right."

"Phoebe, he's right," Piper said. "I think we should make a vanquishing potion, summon her and vanquish her."

"I agree," Paige said.

Piper and I went down to the kitchen to make a vanquishing potion, Piper insisting that I followed once I told her that I had never made a potion before. It could be either true or false depending on how you looked at it. Paige and Phoebe stayed in the attic and looked through the Book of Shadows for vanquishing spells, in case the potion didn't work.

I already knew that it wouldn't work, and neither would the spells. I was counting on it.

When Piper and I reached the kitchen Leo had left for work, Piper explained to me, and cleared the table.

I was chopping ingredients very badly. "Don't you think Wyatt should do this? I mean, this is safe and he really wants to do something to help."

"I want him to be safe," Piper said. "And I don't condone skipping."

"What do you think of me skipping then?" I asked.

"You're not my son. If you had been you wouldn't be here," Piper stated.

"So you think my parents are bad?" I asked and added the Mandrake root to the saucepan. "As in, bad parents?"

"No! You're just helping us with this, you're not going to be with at the actual vanquishing."

"I'm not? I thought I would be, and it's not as if I can't defend myself. I'm telekinetic! And I'm awesome with athames," I said.

"I don't want to put you in harm's way."

"Well, I won't be, will I? It's you she's after, I'm just the weird guy in the background with a note pad and pen," I said. Piper threw in the last of the ingredients and a gray cloud rose from the saucepan.

"If you're going to make notes it's mental notes," Piper said. "Besides, Magic School teaches this kind of stuff."

"Oh, I don't go there," I said. What the hell is Magic School? Then I remembered; it was that school for witches that Mikhail hated because it meant fewer chances to kill witches and made it harder to figure out which powers the witches had and basically it lead to more demons, darklighters, warlocks and etc. dying. "I go to a regular school," I added.

"Oh?" Piper said.

"It's why I've never made a potion before. Or why I'm never going to see a vanquishing on a TV in school, like your kids. This is my chance."

"Well, we'll see," Piper said. "There are bottles in the cupboard to the right of the fridge, close to the window."

"I'll get them," I said.

* * *

"You ready?" Paige asked me. I was standing behind the Charmed Ones who were standing in front of the crystal cage Johnson was to be summoned into and then vanquished. They never used to do that to me back in the old days.

"Definitely," I answered.

"_Powers of the witches rise_

_To soothe Seattle's cries_

_Alice Johnson we want_

_To our haunt,_" Phoebe said.

Nothing happened. There was no appearance of Alice Johnson inside the crystal cage, like I had honestly thought would happen. These were the Charmed Ones! Shouldn't they be able to summon someone like Alice, whose only power came from a ritual?

Though, my only power only comes from, well, several rituals. And I was born with it. But I didn't start out with anything more than Alice had. Less, probably. It shouldn't be a surprise that it didn't work, but somehow Belthazor's faith in them had given me the same faith. I should kill him. Slowly, just so I could resolve my latent issues with him.

"Let's try it all three," Piper said.

"_Powers from the witches rise_

_To soothe Seattle's cries_

_Alice Johnson we want_

_To our haunt._"

Still nothing happened.

"Should I say it too?" I asked.

"No," Phoebe shook her head. "We should probably rewrite it or something instead. Call upon the Power of Three."

"Oh," I said. "But, it's Monday today. Couldn't we just go to her job, all you have to do is walk right in."

"How do you know that?" Paige asked.

"I visited when I researched her."

"How did you figure out it was her anyway?" Paige asked.

"Pure luck," I said. "I was visiting my bio-dad and she..." I trailed off. This could turn really ugly now. "Well, she's his secretary. She wasn't there but there was a grimoire on her desk, which was weird, so I opened it. It detailed the Heka ritual."

"She works weekends?" Piper asked.

"Yeah," I said. What the hell was she talking about? How did she know that?

* * *

I felt slightly dizzy as Paige and I stood in front of the entrance to Belthazor's office. It was just Paige and I since Piper and Phoebe ahd stayed ebhind to figure out another summoning spell.

The plan was crumbling to pieces. Mostly it was Belthazor's fault, his unwavering faith and working on Mondays. Probably.

"Shall we go in?" Paige said.

"Yeah," I said. We walked inside the nearly deserted lobby, straight past the reception.

"Shouldn't we?" Paige said, gesturing to the reception.

"Oh, of course," I said, realizing that we could call and announce from there and then Belthazor could run away and I wouldn't have to worry about his stupid ass anymore.

"Excuse me," I said when I stood by the reception desk. "I would like an appointment with Mr Turner."

"Sure," the black man behind it said. "When?"

"Today. Like, now."

"I'll see what I can do," he said and called. "Alice? Yeah, there's a man here who wants to see Mr Turner, is he in? Mhmm. Does now work? Sure, I'll wait. I'll ask. What's your name?"

"Mine? Benjamin Jones."

"Benjamin Jones." The man looked at nothing while Alice checked with Belthazor. "He can see you now."

"Wait! Could you just see if it's okay if I bring a friend? Paige."

The man nodded. "There's someone else as well, Paige. Mhm. Goodbye. You're free to go," he told me.

"This way," I told Paige. We took the elevator to Belthazor's floor and walked to the room outside his office. Johnson wasn't sitting behind her desk. What the hell? "She should be just there."

"We could ask your dad," Paige said.

"Bio-dad," I said. "My dad is an idiot, but he's _nice_."

I opened the door to Belthazor's office and found it, thankfully, empty. "_He_'s not here either. That's weird. You know, let's just wait a few minutes. They should be here."

Paige nodded. We stood awkwardly in what could be called a room but now felt a bit more like a fancy cubicle.

"Aren't you missing school right now?"

"Yeah, I am. There's a test today, though, so it's not like it's a big loss. You're missing school too, right?"

"Yeah, right now I'd have a class of energetic nine year olds."

"You're happy not to be there then?"

"They're very fun, actually."

"Hm."

"Hello," Johnson said, appearing.

"We're here to see Mr. Turner, is this the right place?" Paige asked.

"Hey, shouldn't we grab her," I whispered.

"Mr. Turner is in here, I'll open the door for you," Johnson said and went to do just that.

"I'll push her and you'll orb her," I told Paige, who nodded.

Johnson opened the door. "That's weird, he's not here."

"Oh, no worries," I said like the B-grade villain I was, took a hold of her telekinetically and pushed. She didn't move an inch, BTU then I remembered that you were completely impervious to magic if you had done or were currently/regularly doing the Heka ritual. Johnson turned around. I took a hold of her clothes, managed to push her into the office. Paige and I hurried in after and closed the door.

"Attic," Paige said clearly. All that happened was that Johnson transformed into a red-skinned humanoid being with a glowing silvery aura. It was blinding and I had to push back the black film usually covering my eyes.

"Fuck."

"Do you have another plan?" Paige asked as we both backed towards the door.

"Hey, you're the experienced one." I couldn't very well say that this was all a part of a plan that may be going slightly south.

Johnson formed an energy ball.

"Energy ball!" Paige called. Nothing happened. Johnson shot and we dove, me towards Johnson and Paige to the left. The door broke into wood splinters.

"You," Johnson said and crouched next to me. I couldn't push back the dark anymore. I welcomed it, called the athame to me and took a swipe at her. I managed to nick her. My luck!

"What's going on here?" a stranger's voice demanded.

"Home," Paige said and I was orbed away. Easily one of the worst experiences of my life. I was dizzy.

When reality reformed Piper looked at me worriedly. Hey, since when did she have five heads? Everything went black.

**AN: Why did Ben pass out? Maybe he didn't eat breakfast or maybe Joanie poisoned his breakfast. Who knows? You'll find out in the next chapter.**


End file.
